


Honey, They're Playing Our Song

by SerahSerah



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AUs, Addiction, Adoribull - Freeform, Aftercare, Aging, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Bull is a troll, Chess, Courtship, Dismemberment, Domestic Fluff, Dragon!Dorian, Eluvian Misuse, Family, Ficlet Collection, Flashbacks, Fluff, Food, Good-Job-Pie, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Kid!Fic, Kissing, M/M, Magic Fingers, Magic Noir, Mrs. Pavus A+ parenting, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Protectiveness, Tevinter is a fucked up place, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, and more fluff basically, but they sure know how to party, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 29,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSerah/pseuds/SerahSerah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian of House Pavus and The Iron Bull have adventures. A lot. Wether or not they want to.<br/>This is my collection of prompt fills from the wonderful Adoribull Prompt Sunday, among others. So, expect this to go everywhere, basically. Fluff, angst, domesticity, humor and canon-typical violence, all in bite sized drabble-chunks.<br/>But no one dies. Or remains with the Qun. That is what I can promise.<br/>Enjoy. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

**Author's Note:**

> So, I disappeared into the hole of real life for a while there, sorry about that. Nothing bad happened, just a lot of it, and my writing kind of remained by the wayside.  
> So I resolved to take it up again, at least with the filling of the lovely prompts I got. And I made this thing here to post them all.  
> Tbh, I'm really not sure if anyone at all needs such a collection from me, but people have been very kind to my writing in the past, and the tag has gone past lackluster and into depressing as of late, so I thought I might do my tiny bit to help. If anyone's interested.

Prompt by [Adoribullness](http://adoribullness.tumblr.com/).  
***

"Hey! I was gonna eat that!"  
"Bull. No. Absolutely not."  
Bull just sighed. He could admit, perhaps, that the pie had gone a little stale and might not be worth the fight, but still. It was the principle of the matter.  
That day, very early in the morning, Dorian had gotten it into his head yet again to clean up Bull's room. It was a dismaying spectacle every time this happened, and it usually resulted in arguments. Dorian had very specific ideas about where things should be stored. It was strange really, but Dorian would defend what he called the natural order of things with a surprising amount of energy. Weapons do not belong in the furniture. Clothes do not belong on the floor. Food does not belong under the bed. Which was fine in and of itself if Dorian was not now making moves towards throwing the pie out.  
"Kadan..." Bull said with his best kicked-Mabari voice and expression.  
"Oh no. That will not work, not this time. If you get food poisoning from a spoiled pie I am not explaining it to the Inquisitor."  
"You know I can't actually get that, right? You know that I run around with poison on my skin all the time?"  
Dorian glared. "That is not the same thing and you know it. You can and you do get ill from spoiled meat. And anyway, why you insist on keeping pies under your bed I will never understand."  
Bull got up from his chair and carefully edged his way towards Dorian and the pie.  
"So what am I supposed to do when I wake up hungry?" He asked, trying to keep up a distraction. Just two more steps-  
WHAP! A brilliant white light made Bull screw his eye shut.  
When he opened it again, the pie was gone and a pitiful handful of ash was trickling down from between Dorian's fingers. Bull sighed dejectedly and Dorian huffed.  
"Alright. You know what? Fine. If you go down to requisitions and ask for a cupboard, you may keep food in here. In the cupboard. Not on the floor. Not under the bed. Do we have an understanding?"  
"Yes, Kadan," Bull answered dutifully.  
If he played his cards right, requisitions might even let him have an icebox.


	2. “No one needs to know…”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Alphabetiful](http://alphabetiful.tumblr.com/):  
> “No one needs to know…”

“I don’t know about this, Dorian… Seems like a bad idea to me.”  
“It is a spectacularly bad idea! Luckily for us, we are both just drunk enough to do it.”  
“I know, right?”  
It was the dead of night and most of Skyhold was fast asleep. The nightguard still patrolled the ramparts, their lights flickering by like fireflies in the distance. The whole courtyard lay silent and in darkness.  
They dashed across it, only slightly unsteady on their feet and rushed through the door of the keep, closing it behind them as quietly as they could.  
Dorian lit a little blue spark in his hand, the pale light flickering over the stone walls and floor, just enough to see where they were going. They crept on through the keep until they came to another heavy wooden door and Dorian produced a large key.  
“How did you get that?” Bull asked, slightly awed.  
“Well… let’s just say ‘research’,” Dorian giggled. “There is much you can get away with in the name of research.”  
He pushed the key into the lock and turned it carefully, unable to stop the creaking of the lock. They both winced and looked around, but nothing stirred. They opened the door slowly and slipped inside. The room was empty but for the rubble on the floor and the faint glow eminating from the looming (and very reflective) shape at the end of the long room.  
“Alright,” Dorian whispered, “no one needs to know about this.”  
“I do hope so. And I get to pick the next spot, like you promised.”  
Dorian just laughed and stretched up to kiss him.


	3. Dorian loses a limb in battle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com):  
> Dorian loses a limb (finger? Eye? Leg?) in battle.  
> Warning: Dismemberment, physical trauma

Something had gone wrong with time, Dorian thought. This was wrong and he did not do it. The brute had not been next to him a second ago, and when the axe came down there was no time left, not for barriers, not for screaming, not even for a curse in his mind.  
All he could do was wrench up his staff in a twisted grip.

Pain exploded in his left hand, too bright and too loud to even recognise as pain, racing up his arm and crashing into his shoulder and the world went dark.

He drifted then for a long time. It was a dark, grey place on the borders of the fade, never quite entering into dreams and never quite surfacing into the world again. He could hear voices on the edges of his consciousness, whispering and murmuring voices, and he could feel pain, immense pain that seemed so far away that it must belong to someone else.  
Time was wrong here too. It did not apply.

The next time he moved away from the fade again the voices seemed nearer and clearer. There was one in particular, deep and rumbling, that was very close. He reached for it and found that he could hold onto it in his mind and pull himself closer. He became aware of his body again slowly, but he could no longer find any pain. He could find nothing on his left side at all.

He could distinguish two voices at last. The deep rumbling one, warm and beloved, and another unfamiliar one with the nervwracking lilt of the tranquil. They were both close and whispering.  
“He was fortunate, the Iron Bull,” the tranquil was saying. “His hand and staff bore the brunt of the blow. His clavicle broke, but it stopped the axe.”  
Dorian could feel a growl vibrate through his head and he realised that he must be lying against Bull’s chest, cradled in one arm with his head on Bull’s shoulder. The growling stopped again and Dorian could feel Bull swallow heavily.  
“And his hand?”  
“The axe went clean though the metacarpals four and five, severing the adjacent fingers. I am confident that he will be able to keep the arm and even the remainder of his hand. If he will regain use of the appendage is impossible to tell at this time. I apologise for the unsatisfactory answer, but his injury is severe. He survived a blow that many would not.”

It was not just time that was wrong. Everything was wrong here.  
Someone spoke with his voice. “Are you… are you talking about me?”  
Bull’s breath caught hard beneath him. “Hey, kadan, hey…” he heard and one great hand stroked through his hair. “Here, drink this.”  
A wet cloth was pressed to his lips and he sucked on it, greedily. The water was cold and its touch brought him even closer to the surface. Time was still all in a haze, but he remembered now. Something bad had happened. And they were talking about him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked about.

He and Bull were lying on a large cot in a healing tent. At the foot of the bed stood an elderly tranquil healer, looking down at both of them impassively. And Dorian tried, he really tried not to look.

His entire left arm lay in a heavy gipsum cast and his chest and shoulders were bound tightly with bandages. His hand lay supported on his hip, swathed in white bandages, and the dimensions were totally wrong.

Horror closed around his throat and chest like grapevines, tendrils of nightmares in his mind that stopped his breathing cold. Bull gasped for him instead and he felt a warm hand gentle on his cheek and the voice started talking to him urgently again just as the darkness reclaimed him.

When he woke again, they were alone. He could see darkness outside the tent and Bull was asleep beneath him, snoring softly. He looked down himself again. The cast and the bandages were unchanged, but Bull’s left hand was closed gently around his injured wrist. The stumps of his missing fingers almost covered the space were the left half of Dorian’s hand should be.

When the tears started to fall Dorian turned his face into Bull’s chest and _howled._


	4. Their first bath together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Magnuspavus](http://magnuspavus.tumblr.com/): how about adoribull first bath together?

Dorian could not be called shy be any stretch of the imagination.  
Honestly though, none of them could. If the choice was between remaining covered in pints of blood under the full desert sun and getting naked in the oasis pool, no one even pretended to care.

The Iron Bull though, he still managed to be even more shameless. Somehow.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was half naked all the time anyway. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Dorian was not actually paying attention to how either Sera or Eleanne were handling their nudity. Maybe.

It had been a long, blisteringly hot day, even worse than usual. They were all exhausted, sweaty and disgusting. The water in the oasis was the perfect temperature, and the mist rising from it in the evening sun was making dewy dropelets form on the ground, the bushes and their clothes. It was a beautiful place.

And Dorian thought nothing of it, at first. He started stripping down efficiently and quickly when he got that tingly feeling of intense eyes trained on him from the side. When he looked up, Bull’s eye was nowhere near him. Instead he was already naked and wading into the water. Dorian had never wondered how Bull looked under those pants. Not once.

Either way, he was not prepared. Bull was massive, all over. His thighs were like treetrunks, powerful and thick, and they ended in a perfect ass, round and strong and with just the perfect amount of padding. It moved and flexed hypnotically as he waded through the water, little waves lapping up around his knees and spraying up his thighs in the red evening light. And then Bull parted his legs, planted his feet firmly and stretched his arms up above his head, tightening every muscle in his body…

Eleanne and Sera raced each other into the water, leaping in with much shouting and splashing and Dorian was left standing on the sand, his last article of clothing dangling forgotten from his fingers, frozen. That is, until he suddenly realised that he would need to get into the water now, as quickly as possible, preferably face down.


	5. The Inquisitor doesn't approve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: The Inquisitor doesn't approve.

“Dorian. May I have a word?”  
Dorian looked up from his bookshelf and smiled at Etlan. He always came by in the evening for a chat, like clockwork, if he was in Skyhold. But this time something seemed off. He was not smiling.

“Why of course!” Dorian said lightly, “I would never deprive you of my opinion on things.”  
Etlan still did not smile. Instead he looked around, as if checking that they were not overheard, and took a deep breath. Dorian felt a first flutter of worry.  
“Dorian. What is going on with you and the Iron Bull?”

Dorian startled, just a little, and the flutter picked up its pace. He had not expected this.  
“Well…” he started carefully, “At first it was an ill-concieved night after drinking. Then there was a second time…” He trailed off when he noticed Etlan’s expression darkening.  
“Why do you ask?”  
Etlan took a step closer and lowered his voice.  
“Dorian. I need you to know that I care about you. If anyone ever does anything to you against your will, I will protect you. You know that it is well within my power to do so, yes?”

Dorian took a step back. “What? No! Inquisitor, I don’t know what is going on, but I assure you that I consented. I do not even understand how you could come to insinuate anything of the kind. I am not a wilting flower to be victimized by anyone, as you should be aware.”

Etlan raised a placating hand. “I am not trying to insinuate anything. And you must know that you needn’t be weak to be a victim. If anything untoward is going on, it would say a whole lot more about him than you.”

Now it was Dorian’s turn to frown. “How did you come by this notion?”  
“I heard what he said to you in the Emerald Graves. It was obscene! No one should talk to you like that. You shouldn’t let anyone talk to you like that, least of all-” Etlan stopped himself and dropped his eyes.  
“Least of all who? Forgive me if I do not follow.”

He followed entirely too well. He knew where that thought went, from experience. He found himself wishing that he didn’t. Etlan was looking at him strangely now, a calculating expression he had not seen before. It was unsettling.

“I meant no offence to the man,” Etlan said. “He has proven himself loyal and trustworthy. Up to a point. But he is still Qunari, and no matter what appeal he holds for you right now, you know that this can go nowhere.”

“And why not?” Dorian asked with sudden vehemence. He was lost. He had no idea where this conversation was supposed to be going, but that sounded like a challenge if he had ever heard one. Etlan reached out and put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. His eyes and voice turned gentle.

“They don’t do this, Dorian. They don’t do love. They don’t even know the meaning of the word! If he has not hurt you, count yourself lucky and leave before he does.”  
Etlan sighed and squeezed Dorian’s shoulder. “You deserve better.”

Dorian suddenly became aware that the were standing very close. Etlan was radiating solemn concern and Dorian had to fight a cold shiver running up his spine. Etlan continued in the same gentle tone.  
“You are powerful and clever and very handsome, Dorian. You could find someone who truly loves you.”

Dorian took a sudden step back, forcing Etlan to drop his hand. For a second they stared at each other without blinking. Dorian felt cold. Etlan cleared his throat.

“Well. You know where to find me. Anytime, Dorian.”

He turned and left down the stairs without looking back. Dorian dropped down heavily into his chair. He would need to reevaluate some things.


	6. The first Funalis celebration at Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Justjasper](http://justjasper.tumblr.com/): Together for the first Funalis celebration at Skyhold?

The sun was setting over skyhold, drenching the walls and courtyards in deep orange. The darkening sky was clear and the first stars appeared overhead just as the first fires sprang to life. Every sconce, firebasket and cooking fire was stoked to roaring.

Dorian and Bull stood in the lower courtyard with the Chargers and many soldiers around the great heap of wood and debris that Rocky was currently scurrying around in. After a short while of tinkering and cursing, a small explosion cracked under the rubble, making everone jump. Rocky made a spirited jump into safety as the flames started leaping up between the old beams, accompanied by a resounding cheer from all around.

“Well,” Dorian said, “that certainly is one way to get a fire going.”  
“I know, right? Best way, if you ask me!” Bull smiled down at him.  
“I may not actually want to know, but what are we burning here?”  
“Oh, we just gathered all the fallen beams from the keep. Figured it would symbolic enough.”  
“Symbolic?” Dorian chuckled. “Is it the night of the high concepts?”  
Bull’s smile faded slowly, his face growing serious, though the fondness didn’t leave his eyes. “Yeah, I guess it is.”  
Dorian hummed. “I can see that I suppose.”

They stood in silence for a while and watched the flames.

“So, what are you planning tonight?” Bull asked.  
Dorian shrugged. “There will be a service held in the main hall, if you are interested. It will be dreadfully pious and southern though.”  
“You won’t go?”  
“Hm, no. Funalis services are… depressing.”  
“You think so? I thought that was the point.”  
“Well, perhaps. This time especially.”

Bull did not need to say it. Felix had been dead for over a month now, but Dorian had not spoken about it yet. The silence on the topic stretched on forever, and it felt like it was never a good time to break it. Bull looked thoughtful.

“Well, if you don’t feel like being pious and southern, what would you like to do?”  
“I think I would like to climb the battlements and watch the fires. You are welcome to accompany me.”

Bull just nodded and they made their way up the stairs. The air was clear and cold and up here the cheering voices seemed very far away. Dorian turned to look over the keep. For a long time they stood and watched as the people all filed into the hall across from them and quiet fell over Skyhold.

It was Dorian who broke the silence. “In Tevinter, or in some parts of it at least, it is custom to celebrate this day in silence. No one is supposed to speak. I have known families who actually observe this custom.”  
Bull huffed. “Not much of a celebration then, is it?”  
Dorian looked up at him. “No, I suppose not. Bull… could we maybe do that? For a while?”  
Bull just smiled sadly and nodded.

They did not know who reached out first, but soon their hands met and clasped. All was still but for the muted singing coming from the hall. All was dark but for the many pinpricks of light all over Skyhold and the myriad of stars in the sky.


	7. F!Inquisitor confesses she had a crush on Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: F! Inquisitor confessed she had a crush on Dorian, but reveals she's more happy about finding out he ended up with The Iron Bull.

It was quite late in the evening when Bull emerged from his latest mission debriefing with the advisors and made straight for the Heralds Rest. The courtyard lay in dusk, but light and loud cheering spilled out of the open door and the windows and Bull quickly ducked inside.

It was a busy evening, and he quickly spotted the Chargers in their usual corner, this time with the addition of Dorian in their midst. He was currently regaling them with some wild tale, a large ale in hand and already more than a little sloshed.

Bull smiled to see it. It had taken a while for them to warm up to each other, but now he seamed to fit in like he had always belonged, and it never failed to warm Bull’s heart. He could not guess what they would do when all this was over, but he liked to think that Dorian would know that he had a place with them, when the time came.

Bull did not approach at once, not wanting to interrupt the story, and instead made his way to the bar first. Several soldiers were already occupying the low stools there, and among them sat Lavellan. She was leaning with her back against the bar and broke out a wide smile when she spotted Bull.

“Hey there!” She called to him, “first time I beat you here, eh?”  
He chuckled. “Yes, well, you know Red. I thought I’d never get away.”  
He waved at Cabot to indicate he wanted his usual ale and leaned next to her while he waited. She looked back out over the barroom and fixed her eyes on the Chargers again. Bull got his ale and they both stayed like that for a while, watching. After some time she looked up at him again and he could see that she was clearly not on her first ale either.

“You know, I’m glad he found his place, yes?” She asked.  
“Who, Dorian?”  
“Yeah…” She looked thoughtful. “I’m glad he found his place with you.”  
“Ah, so you noticed?”  
“My dear Bull, it was hard not to notice! The way he looks at you…” She looked wistful for a second, but then smiled again. “I know that look.”  
Bull just hummed, sensing there was something she wanted to say, in her own time.  
“I once looked like that,” she said after a while. “A few times, actually, and once at him.” Bull raised his eyebrows at her, but she continued undeterred. “Took me forever to see why he wouldn’t look back at me. In that way I mean. He looks at me all the time of course…” She stopped herself and coughed. “Anyway. Now he looks to you, and you to him. I’m glad. He grows less afraid each day.”

The wistfullness in her eyes was back and she looked up at Bull, drunk and earnest. Bull just nodded. It was a confusing thing, and Bull did not really understand all that, but he hoped that he at least got the basics.  
“Dorian’s a sweet guy,” he said. “He’s gentle. I’m hoping we’re good for each other.”  
She raised one finger at him in a half humourous, half threatening gesture. “You had better be! Don’t know who I’d have to be cross with if you aren’t.”  
Bull laughed. “Aw, that’s sweet, boss. You know the shoveltalker usually picks a side?”  
She just shook her head and looked back to Dorian. He had finished his story and had spotted them, raising his ale at them in toast.  
“I won’t,” she said. “Just see that you both do this right.”  
She got up from her chair and headed for the Chargers and Bull followed, still smiling.


	8. Dorian having to protect Bull somehow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Dichotomous-dragon](http://dichotomous-dragon.tumblr.com/): Dorian having to protect Bull somehow.

The behemoth was not fast, but neither did it tire. They had been at it for what felt like forever and nothing ever went well in a fight that lasted longer than ten minutes. Not that Bull was counting, but he was reasonably certain.

He was also reasonably certain that his blows weren’t even really hurting it, and the projectiles that came from behind him barely did more. Worse, every time a fireball hit the red lyrium spikes at a bad angle it was refracted, showering him in sparks. This was no longer his idea of fun.

Also he noted with increasing worry that he was growing slower with each blow, while the creature still swung at him undeterred. Soon all he could do was block and evade as the twisted arms came at him from both sides. He swung his axe up to block one of them and saw the exact moment in which he lost the time to block the other.

The blow caught him in the ribs like a hammer to the anvil, driving all breath from his body even as he was lifted from his feet. He flew several paces and crashed down hard on the ground, searing pain shooting through his entire chest.

Faintly he could hear the others yelling over the behemoth’s roar as it approached him. It’s voice was deep and loud, but as it came closer he heard it dip sharply in pitch, down to an impossible register until it was nothing but a vibration in his bones.

He had a second to wonder that he had never heard them do that before, and then the world went grey. Suddenly, as if someone had switched off all colour all light faded to a uniform hue. The beast seemed to stop in it’s tracks towards him, slowing it’s movements to a crawl and the air was still filled with the sickening rumble for a long moment.

Then a lot of things happened. A sharp crack detonated, making him wince so hard he nearly closed his eye. The air around him exploded into what looked like shards of glass, glinting golden in some hidden light, and flying outward. A barrier fell over him like a shower of cold water and he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

Dorian was there, kneeling over him, his face a mask of fury Bull had never seen before. He roared up at the behemoth and pointed his staff at it. Bull threw an arm over his face as the air around them seemed to boil with heat, there was one last great bellow from the beast and then, silence.


	9. Dorian gets a letter from Tevinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Dorian gets a letter from Tevinter that causes EMOTIONS. Bull supports him.

Dorian was missing.  
Bull had finished up the day’s training and gone looking for him, as he always did these days. But the library was empty, as was the tavern. Bull even climbed up the steps to Dorian’s room, without success. Bull frowned to himself. He knew there was likely a very mundane explanation and he should just go back to the tavern and wait for him. He would do that as soon as he could shake the vague feeling that something was wrong.

Without any clear idea of where to look next, Bull simply wandered the keep for a bit. The rooms and passageways under the main hall were expansive, and after a few flights of stairs and turns Bull did not recognize anything anymore. Not that he was lost, as such. He was exploring.

Before he had to go back on that statement, he came to a very ominous looking, heavy wooden door. There was nothing all that special about it, except for the white glowing rune on it. Bull did not recognise the sigil, but he only knew one mage in the south who would bar a door with magic. The light was bright and intense, but it was also wavering and sparking unsteadily and it gave Bull the creeps. Careful not to touch it he reached past it and knocked.

The rune flickered aggressively for a few seconds and then died with a low hiss. Bull pushed the door open slowly and peered inside. The room turned out to be another library. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves that sighed with dust, and in the middle stood a large table that was covered in tombs, haphazardly strewn about and as dusty as the shelves.

It took Bull a while to find Dorian. He sat hidden behind the table, leaning against one of its legs, and he looked awful. His robes were dusty from the floor, his hair was in complete dissarray and black kohl was streaked down his cheeks with tears. Several empty wine bottles lay strewn around him.

Bull approached him and knelt down. “Kadan?”  
Dorian looked up at him blearily, eyes barely focussing.  
“Oh Kadan,” Bull said and shuffled forward into reach. Touching Dorian unasked for when he was upset was rarely a good idea, and Bull had found that just being near and waiting for Dorian to come to him was a better strategy. He crossed his legs and waited patiently. Dorian tried to focus on him for a while and then looked away again, his head drooping.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Bull tried again after a while.  
Dorian huffed and reached behind him, drawing out a crumpled letter. Bull stiffened.  
“I got a letter,” Dorian said, his voice slurred far less than his posture and eyes would suggest.  
“From Mother.”  
Bull started in surprise. “What does she say?”  
“Nothing.” Dorian said, acid in his words. “Absolutely nothing.” He was silent for several seconds before he continued. His voice was no longer sharp, just tired and Bull’s heart hurt.  
“Cousin Leatius threw an absolutely awful soiree. Dreadfully boring. Great Aunt Felicia has worn the same dress three times now. Friend so-and-so did this-and-that… You get the idea.”

Bull blinked. “That’s… huh.” He was lost.  
Dorian shook his head. “No, no. This is clear as day. And it is final.”  
“But what is it? Sorry kadan, I don’t speak Tevene.” The joke was weak, but Dorian chuckled a little anyway.  
“She says that unless I come home, unless I take part in that life again, nothing I do is worth asking after or talking about.”

Dorian sagged in on himself, leaning forward precariously. Not quite far enough to touch, but Bull decided to just risk it. He reached out and pulled Dorian against him all the way, wrapping his arms around him and cushioning his head against his chest. Almost instantly all strength seemed to leave Dorian’s body and he sobbed. It was a dreadful sound, drunk and heartbroken and Bull had to close his eye hard against the feeling.

“She doesn’t even disapprove,” Dorian whispered between sobs, “She just absolutely does not give a damn.” Bull squeezed Dorian tighter, and he went on. “She told me once, there’s nothing wrong with my ‘rebellion’. There is nothing that cannot be sold as a wild and interesting past, she said. Nothing that can’t be turned into capital. If I came home she would help, we would still come out on top.” Sobs overtook his voice again and he gave up.

Bull stroked his back and hummed. “She doesn’t know people, does she?”  
Dorian shook his head and then shrugged. “No, she does. That makes it worse.”  
Bull started stroking Dorian’s hair. “No, she really doesn’t. You did not ‘rebel’, kadan. You fled for your life. I’m sorry she doesn’t get it.”

Dorian threaded one hand under Bull’s harness strap and clung. Bull held him back, stroking him gently and humming until at last the tears stopped and Dorian fell asleep, drunk and exhausted. Bull sighed sadly and gathered him up in his arms.  
“Alright then,” he whispered, “let’s get you to bed. That is, uh…”  
Which way was up, again? Bull was not lost. He was just wandering the keep and rocking his Kadan in sleep. That way he would not have to let go of him any time soon.


	10. Bull accidentally whacks Dorian in the head with his horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Kidvoodoo](http://kidvoodoo.tumblr.com/kidvoodoo/): Bull accidentally whacks Dorian in the head with his horns.

It was growing late, or rather early, and Bull decided that Dorian had had enough. The post-mission party was winding down, the tavern growing quieter as the sky paled outside. Dorian was draped half over Bull and half over the table, feebly holding on to the remainder of his drink and it was only a matter of time before he would start to snore.

“Alright Kadan, let’s get you up,” Bull said and nudged his shoulder. All he got in reaction was a mumbled grunt, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. Or arms, as it were. He would just need to get up first, no problem.

As soon as he got to his feet it occurred to him that he might have miscalculated. The room did a spinning dip and Bull only just caught himself on the table in time. Righting himself again did not help much, the room was still spinning. Well then. He looked down to see that Dorian had been unceremoniously dislodged from his shoulder onto the table. It had woken him up somewhat and he was now blinking up at Bull in confusion.

“You moved!” He slurred accusingly, bunching up his eyebrows into the cutest little frown. Bull couldn’t help but coo a little.

“Come on then big guy, time for bed.” He took a hold of Dorian’s shoulders and heaved him to his feet. Then they both stood for a while, blinking at each other and swaying. Then Dorian gave a little giggle and leaned into him.  
“You’re drunk!” He announced and held onto Bull’s harness for support. Bull decided that it was best not to argue with drunk people. No matter how wrong they might be.

After some complicated coordination they managed to arrange themselves into something akin to walking order and started to climb the stairs up to Bull’s room. It was slow going, Dorian leaning onto him heavily and stumbling every few steps. He walked as if he was supporting some great weight himself, strangely enough. Also the floor was tipping. Very inconsiderate.

They made it to the room without any major accidents and stumbled over to the bed. They both sat down heavily and Bull sighed. At least the bed was staying where it was supposed to. Dorian was fumbling at his harness from behind, trying to get the buckle open and Bull cooed again. So nice of him to help him get undressed. He decided to return the favour and turned around.

There was a dull thud and something hit Bull in the head. He blinked a few times to clear out his vision and then did a double take. He was alone on the bed. He shook his head in confusion. Dorian had been there just now…

A low groan from the floor alerted him that something was off. Leaning over the edge of the matress he saw that Dorian had indeed, somehow, fallen off the bed. He was lying face down on the floor, arms and legs spread out. He groaned again.

“Uh, Kadan?” Bull asked, though his mouth didn’t seem to form the words as easy as it should, “what are you doing on the floor?”

Dorian rolled onto his back and glared up at him. Or tried to, at least. He was very blurry and his expression was kinda hard to make out. Bull sighed and reached down, got a hold of Dorian’s straps and heaved him onto the bed.

Dorian raised a wobbly finger and tried to point it in Bull’s general direction. “You… lummox,” he slurred and promptly fell asleep. Perhaps Bull should not let him drink quite as much next time.


	11. Dorian & Bull play a game of chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [ thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/): Dorian & Bull play a game of chess. (If chess isn't your thing, it could be any game!)

It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining and a nice, peaceful feeling lay over Skyhold. Bull was taking a stroll. He had heard about that and wanted to try it. Apparently it consisted of just, well, walking around. A bit of a waste of time, but Varric had assured him that this was the point.

“Nothing to do today, Tiny,” he had said, “might as well waste it. It’ll do you some good.” Bull chuckled at the memory and made his way through the great hall towards the gardens.

He had not really taken the time to inspect them before, but now he looked around with interest. There were a few people about, standing or sitting alone or in groups and enjoying the sun and a bit of gossip. Bull looked for a good vantage point. There was no ale here, but maybe he could give a reasonable impression of sunbathing? He would try.

Walking across the garden path he spotted a gazebo against one of the garden walls. Underneath sat Dorian, frowning down at a chessboard. Alone. Bull smiled. This was too good to pass up.

“Playing with yourself, are you?” He greeted cheerfully.

Dorian did not look up, just sagged his shoulders and sighed as if in great pain. “That was awful. Even for you,” he growsed and Bull laughed.

“Ah, it was alright. But why are you sitting all alone here?”

“Well usually I play with the Commander. He seems to be detained though, and thus I am relegated to sitting here, on my own, staring at a chess board.” He gestured to the table as if demonstrating what he was talking about. A sly little thought crept into Bull’s mind just as he adjusted his expression to a more neutral, less gleeful, setting.

“Chess, huh?” He asked innocently, “how do you play?”

Dorian smiled indulgently. “I suppose I could teach you. Ah well, this seems to be my only option. Sit down and I will try to explain.”

Bull sat down, careful not to knock over the table and Dorian launched into his teaching. He explained the moves of each piece in detail, demonstrated examples, and then went into some of the more common maneuvres. Bull did not really listen. The light was doing great things for Dorian’s complexion, and his voice was melodious and sweet, even tinged with condescension as it was, and his hands were nimble and beautiful as he delicately moved the pieces.

Bull wondered. Dorian was glorious in battle, he knew that well by now, but this? Just peaceful and quiet and so in his element explaining something simple in convoluted ways… Bull could not even guess why, but it made him feel all warm.

“Bull? Did you get that?” Dorian asked suddenly and Bull became aware that he had been drifting a little, watching Dorian’s hands. He quickly looked up again and nodded.  
“Yeah, I think I just about got it. What are the stakes?”  
Dorian huffed. “This is chess. You do not play chess for stakes.”  
“Ah, just for the thrill of the chase then? I can work with that. Needn’t cost you anything.”

Dorian frowned, but apparently decided to ignore it. “White goes first,” he said and gestured to to Bull’s side. Bull put his pawn forward, hesitantly, and the game was on.

At first Bull made a bit of a show of thinking. He quickly learned that a few of his deliberate uncertainty tells had quite the effect on Dorian. He tapped his lips with his fingers and Dorian’s eyes widened, just a little. He delicately rocked a piece with just one finger and Dorian stared. He growled when his Ben-Hassrath was captured and Dorian shifted in his seat. And always, always Dorian had his eyes on his hands. It was delightful.

After a while though Bull grew tired of pretending. He picked up the pace a little and set up a neat little bait-and-switch and Dorian’s breath caught. For the first time his eyes left the board and instead seemed to try and bore into Bull’s skull. Bull just smiled innocently and shrugged.

“Was that a good move?” He asked glibly and Dorian frowned.

They played on and Bull started really trying. Dorian was a good player, but he was clearly not taking Bull seriously. It was far too easy to convince him that a move was a mistake or that he was oblivious to Dorian’s maneuvers. Until at last he switched around again, drew the Tamassran in from where he had pretended to forget about her and had Dorian in checkmate in the next five moves.

Dorian leaned back slowly and just stared at him in open surprise. “You have played this before!” He sounded so startled Bull wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or be insulted. He settled for smirking. Smirking always made Dorian breathe a little funny.  
“Yes, I have,” he said, “surprised?”  
He didn’t need to ask. Dorian was clearly very surprised indeed. He was also looking thoughtful now. Bull grinned at him and gave him one of his best one eyed winks.

“I enjoy playing a lot, actually. So, you know. If you ever get tired of playing with yourself again, you know where to find me.”

Dorian sputtered and Bull laughed. This had been a day well wasted indeed.


	12. It's hard to find some time alone together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Captaincorale](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com/) : Dorian and Bull have been finding it difficult to get much time alone together. Dorian is ridiculously frisky and frustrated. This might be when Dorian is still in the denial stage about he feels about Bull.

Well then. Bull had made his motives quite clear, hadn’t he? Not that Dorian had ever wondered about them before… No, he had. He really had. Right now he was drunk enough to admit it. In his own mind at least, and as long as he didn’t think it too loud. If he were to continue on this honesty spree of his, he would also admit that he was drinking for courage.

It had been two weeks since Bull had made his little speech. Long enough for them to come back to Skyhold. Long enough for the thoughts to incubate in Dorian’s mind, hot and dark and messy… He shook his head and sighed. The thoughts were not going away. That is why he was sitting here with his liquid courage and all his life choices. Leaving Tevinter was the first. Getting turned on by a crude Qunari mercenary was the next. There must have been others in between, but the connection still eluded him.

When he looked up from his ale he found that the bar was rather quiet and empty. Also blurry. He looked back down at the tankard and frowned. Then he tried to get up. Courage? Check. Ability to follow through? Uncheck. So much for that then.

He did eventually get into his room, somehow. He slept through most of the morning and his hangover and by the time he was back in the library the thoughts had quieted down somewhat. It was alright, he decided. Momentary lapses in judgement happened to everyone. Now he could just forget about it and move on. Splendid.

That evening he went back to the tavern for dinner. He was just about to tuck into his druffalo stew when he heard the chargers enter. They were all talking and laughing, but one voice rose above all the others, or rather, it sank below. Bull’s voice was so deep it just carried over everything, through the entire tavern and through Dorian. It touched him in places he hadn’t known a voice could touch, and to his consternation the feeling was not contained between his legs. Bull’s voice was… beautiful, in a way. It made Dorian want to smile. It also made him want other things.

Against his better judgement, Dorian looked up at the commotion. The Chargers were just taking their seats, and just as Bull was sitting down he happened to look over at Dorian. Whatever he saw there seemed to please him, and he smiled and screwed his eye closed in what he called a wink. The hot tingling came back, very suddenly. Dorian tried not to blush and looked down at his stew again. So much for moving on then.

Dorian knew, from experience, that this kind of attraction only ever led to one place. And that was fine, he figured that was what the feeling was for. He also knew that it would be a lot more persistent and hard to ignore if he didn’t follow up on it at least once. The thought of bedding a Qunari should have been mortifying, but it was… not. It was a lot of other things instead. So alright then, he thought. Just once.

He looked up at Bull again and caught his eye. Then he did his best subtle little headtoss in the direction of Bull’s room. There, a perfectly executed invitation, quite clear without any obscene talk in public. Bull’s entire face lit up like autumn bonfire and he beamed. Dorian looked away again quickly.

“Dorian!” A familiar voice tore him from his thoughts just as a green glowing hand clapped him on the back. “Just the man I was looking for,” Adaar said cheerfully, “Do you have a minute?”

Dorian suppressed a sigh that he would not have been able to pass off as relief. He did not mind Adaar monopolising his time if there was anything he could do to help her. But still, the heat hadn’t gone anywhere either. He threw Bull an apologetic glance, who shrugged in a very Qunari way. It was not to be.

The next morning Dorian emerged to a great deal of clamour in the courtyard. When he went to investigate, he found the Chargers training, and making a spectacle of themselves. They had accrued quite the audience, and Dorian found himself a good vantage point and watched. Bull was taking them all on together, without a weapon.

His skin was gleaming in the early morning sun, all his muscles shifting and rippling as he moved with strength and grace. He was so fast for his bulk, and as they came at him from all sides he spun and weaved. He ducked sideways towards Skinner first, gripping her swordarm in one hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. Then he turned and threw her. She whooped as she flew several paces, landing safely on her feet, and Dorian suddenly needed to lean on something. He himself was a lot heavier than a female elf, but still… Nothing quite wakes you up in the morning like a barrage of images of being so thoroughly manhandled and tossed about by great grey arms and rough hands with that kind of strength.

The fight went on and Dorian was just debating his options when Adaar approached again. The Chargers let off and Bull stepped up to her. They spoke for a while, to quiet for Dorian to hear, and then Bull turned back to his troup.  
“Chargers!” He announced in his best outdoor voice, “pack up! We have a job to do.”  
Dorian thumped his head against the tavern wall behind him and glared at Adaar. She did not see, but he could feel Bull’s gaze on him now. He didn’t dare return it.

The chargers ended up being away for more than a fortnight. Enough time to nearly send Dorian round the bend. He kept to his work, of course, but really his books were very inconsiderate now. They kept going out of focus, just to be replaced with great grey hands in Dorian’s mind, with a ringing, rumbling voice, with hot words and hotter looks and the burning sensation that was now permanently nested in his gut and lower. It was ridiculous. He tried questioning it, once or twice, but really he was done with that. He couldn’t anymore.

When the chargers came back Dorian was standing at the gate to meet them. He did still make an effort to be discrete, but when Bull strode through the gates it was all he could do not to call out to him. Not to run over, not to… He stopped himself. Decorum, or at least common sense, saved him from actually pouncing on another man in front of everyone.

He still saw the exact moment Bull noticed him, and by the look he got he was probably projecting far to much emotion on his face. He tried to stop, but Bull was giving him that beaming grin again that lit up everything around him, and he just couldn’t. Then Bull tossed his head towards the roof of the Tavern and Dorian nearly burst out laughing. Bull was learning, or at least trying to learn. His giant horns made the gesture anything but subtle, but Dorian did appreciate the effort. And then Bull waved to his chargers and made straight for the tavern.

Dorian watched him go and felt the heat rise up in him, hard. He knew he shouldn’t do this, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t. It had been so long now and he just felt worn so thin it almost hurt.

He could still see Bull’s grin in his mind. This was all his fault. Dorian was going to make him pay.


	13. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [dichotomous-dragon](http://dichotomous-dragon.tumblr.com/): Insomnia

By the time the day was done, Dorian was exhausted. They had ridden hard through the night to get the word of the red templar plans back to Skyhold and by the time they came through the gates the sun had risen over the walls of the keep. Lavellan jumped from her halla and rushed towards the great hall to her advisors, Cassandra and Sera went off towards their beds and by the time the stable boys had taken their mounts, Dorian was left standing alone in the courtyard.

He could go and sleep, but he had a stack of enemy letters in his pack and he had volunteered to study them. Also the image of the templar’s faces still stood out clear and terrible in his mind, and he knew from experience that it would not leave him soon. The first time he had seen those red whisps of infection, it had been in the eyes of those who would later become his friends. He had seen them in the eye of the Iron Bull, calm and stoic. He had not known it at the time, but now the memory would never completely leave him again. Not once that eye became so familiar and so beloved. And everytime he thought he had gotten over it, they encountered more infected templars, more reminders of the red future.

Dorian sighed and made for the library. It was as good an excuse to stay awake as any.

It was midday when the fade started pulling at him. He sat in his armchair, book open on his lap and he stared at the letters. His eyes were heavy, everything was heavy, as if he had doubled in weight. But still he kept on reading. Fade tendrils, thin and cold, reached for him, wrapping and snaring around his joints and sinews and making them ache. He wondered at this effect for a while, his eyes unfocusing on the page. What was it about a lack of sleep that made his fingers hurt? Maybe he should do some tests on that…

When he woke up again the book had fallen to the floor and crumpled its pages. He cursed and bent down to pick it up, blinking against the familiar dizzyness, and then continued to read. It was hard to say what the book was about, the words did not really seem to say much. But he kept reading. He forced his eyes to stay open. He was useless to the Inquisition if he couldn’t even do his research. If all he did was sleep, what was the use of him…

When he woke up again it was darker in the library. He must have been out an hour or so, and the mages were lighting the candles. The book was still there, open on his lap, not making sense. To keep from nodding off again he resolved to go read standing up at the table. Rising from the chair had a wave of dizziness overtake him that was so strong he almost couldn’t ignore it. Then his stomach growled loud enough for two of the mages to look his way. He valiantly ignored them.

He tried to continue reading and keeping notes to stay on track, but standing up made the aching worse. His vision was blurring too now. When had he actually last slept? No more than an hour ago. Really, he should not be complaining. So what if sleep at night had been scarce for the past few weeks? That’s just what it’s like on the road. He should not be complaining. He should not be this tired. He should be more useful…

When his right knee almost buckled underneath him he snapped awake in a heartbeat. He did not fall down, thank the maker for small mercies. He continued to stare at the page until he heard heavy steps coming up the stairs. He turned and tried to focus on Bull in the doorway who was staring at him.  
“Wow, Kadan,” he said, “you look like shit.”  
Dorian didn’t even have the energy to quip, he just nodded. Bull sighed and came closer, wrapping him in a warm hug.  
“Have you eaten?” He asked. Dorian shook his head.  
“Alright then. I’m going to get some food in you, and then I’m taking you to bed. Sound good?”  
Dorian nodded again.

Later that night, when the Iron Bull had long since fallen asleep and was snoring, Dorian lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling.


	14. "Are you two, together?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Dorian and Bull were just passing by around the market for an errand. Then a little girl of Nine years comes up to them with an unexpected question. "Are you two, together?" with a hint of hopefulness.

The crossroads had really started looking up. Once just a collection of dilapidated huts and a bunch of refugees at the end of their rope, now it was almost a small village in its own right. The houses were simple but sturdy, and the people looked healthy and happy.

The settlement was dominated by the central marketplace, as it had become an important tradehub. This was also the reason Bull and Dorian were here. If one wanted to spend hard earned gold and even harder earned free time without the extravagance of Orlais, this was the place to be. They were both quite immersed in a cloth merchant’s wares, discussing color types and holding samples up to one another, when a tiny voice adressed them from behind.

“Messere? Uh, I beg your pardon, Messere?”

They turned around and looked down at a young elf girl, maybe nine years old. She was dressed cheaply, but looked strong and well fed. She also wore her hair short and had good shoes. Errand runner, probably. She was looking up at Dorian with big eyes, and ever so often she darted glances over to Bull. It was clear that she had spent some time screwing up her courage to even speak to them.

Dorian smiled at her. “Of course, girl. Can we help you?”

She blushed and wrung her hands a little with nerves. Then she took a deep breath and drew herself up. “Are you two… together?” She asked, and there was a strange tinge of hope in her voice.

Dorian stiffened noticeably and Bull watched him. He really hoped Dorian wouldn’t get angry or jump to conclusions here. They had not been a couple openly for long, and he was still skittish on the topic. Bull also hoped no one had planted wrong ideas into the girl’s head.

But Dorian smoothed out his expression and nodded. “Yes, we are,” he said in a measured voice. “Why?”  
“Uh…” she stammered and looked down at her hands. “It’s just… I beg your pardon, Messere, this is very rude, and I shouldn’t say this, but…” She took another deep breath. “Are you not human?”

Bull and Dorian both blinked in surprise. The girl looked up at them in trepidation and they stood like that for a second in silence. Then Dorian crouched down to meet her eyes.  
“That I am,” he said. Her eyes flickered over to Bull again.  
“But… he’s not!” She exclaimed.  
Dorian looked up at Bull and then back to her, puzzled. Then a thought seemed to come to him.  
“No, he is not. He is a Qunari, you know. Have you ever seen one before?”  
She shook her head.  
“Are you in love with him?” She blurted out and then covered her mouth with her hand. “Forgive me,” she stammered, “that was so rude!”  
“It’s alright,” Dorian said, smiling now, “As it happens I am. Why does that surprise you?”

She took her hand away and looked down. “No, no reason,” she whispered, “It’s just… It’s just that the grownups say you can’t do that. They say humans can’t fall in love with people who aren’t.” Her voice cracked and her eyes looked wet, even though she was still putting on a brave face.

“Hey now,” Dorian said, so gently it made Bull’s heart swell, “that is not true! We can and we do fall in love with anyone who captures our heart. Only if we are really dense we might not know that right away. Tell me, is there someone human who’s heart you would like to have?”

She blushed hard, right up to the tips of her ears. “No!” she exclaimed and took a step back. “No, no.” She shook her head for a while. Then she seemed to remember her manners, swallowed hard and looked Dorian in the eyes again. “Thank you, Messere,” she said in a rush, and then turned tail and fled.

Dorian stood up again and grinned to himself before turning back to the amused cloth merchant. Bull found that he could not stop smiling.


	15. "Do you feel that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Adoribull Prompt Sunday via Dorian dialogue: "Do you feel that?"

“Do you feel that?”  
All Dorian got in response was a drawn out moan.  
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Bull was lying stretched out on his back, his arms above his head and both hands gripping the headboard, hard. He also had his left leg in Dorian’s lap.

Dorian smiled and continued, stroking and kneading the knotted scar tissue and the stiff muscled underneath with heated hands. The leg was damaged from the ankle up to the knee. The skin was badly scarred, but Dorian suspected that the sinews had some kind of permanent injury too. Bull rarely let on, but Dorian knew it had to hurt.

And on days like this it was so bad that Bull even let him know that he was in pain. It was wet and cold, and Bull had spent all day outside, the idiot. Dorian had seen him wince one too many times and had dragged him inside, like he always did.

He had spread Bull out, undressed him, and got to work. He heated his hands carefully and massaged the entire limb until the deep chill finally left it, until the muscles relaxed and the scars stopped pulling on themselves.

Dorian had been at this for a while, and Bull was completely boneless for the most part. Only if Dorian hit a nerve he would tense all over, clawing at the headboard and getting hard just from the physical reaction alone.

It always took a while for Bull to be able to let go like this, giving in to pleasure that was not sex. It had taken him a long time in the beginning to even understand what it was, and what was happening to him. It made Dorian’s heart ache to think, but no one had ever done this for him.

Of course few people could do the heat trick quite like he could. He heated his hands up another notch and smiled when Bull threw his head back and moaned again. Dorian wanted to listen to that sound forever.


	16. "Please pardon my husband, he's new."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Heronfem](http://heronfem.tumblr.com/): Dorian accidentally offends some other Qunari, and Bull hastily intervenes before it can get nasty with something to the effect of "Please pardon my husband, he's new." Amusement abounds.

It was quite the day when Adaar’s company finally arrived at Skyhold. The breach had been sealed and for a while everything was quiet, so Shokrakar had decided to pay the young troublemaker a visit.

Adaar herself was all abuzz with nerves, and the rest of the circle all prepared in their typical ways. It’s not every day that you meet someone who holds authority over the Inquisitor, or at least someone who once had. Everyone was excited.

Everyone except for Dorian that is, who did not seem to grasp the significance of the occasion.  
“I just don’t understand what is so interesting about her,” he grouched.  
“Shokrakar is famous,” Bull said, “I’ve never met her and I’m sure not gonna miss the chance. Ask me about her some time, I can tell you stories. Any mercenary could!”  
Dorian did not miss the wistfulness in Bull’s voice, or the sparkle in his eye. Or the fact that he had now cleaned and polished his axe for the third time that day.

By the time the Tal-Vashoth company came riding into Skyhold, Dorian was still sulking. Everyone had come out to meet them, but he resolutely stayed in his library. No need to appear over eager, as some other people he could mention.

He only had a few hours of peace though, before the grand tour Adaar was giving finally came around to him. They made so much noise coming up the steps that Dorian thought she was bringing an entire army, but in the end it was only her, the Iron Bull and five dangerous looking Qunari mercs.

Dorian tried to pick out their leader, until they stepped aside to reveal the tiniest Qunari female he had ever seen. She was barely as tall as he was, and significantly more slender. She looked almost delicate, even her horns were slim and elegantly curved. She would be considered beautiful by human standards, but for a Qunari she just looked fragile. She almost disappeared among her men.

Adaar beamed at him. “Shokrakar,” she said, “meet Dorian.”  
Dorian just raised an eyebrow. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, as politely as he could. Then he gave a pointed side glance to Bull. “I thought you’d be taller.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone present, followed by a resounding silence. He looked around to find seven rough grey faces staring at him in something akin to horror. Then he looked down to Shokrakar again.

She was staring at him without any expression at all. Her eyes were grey like steel, and there was something cold there, something that made him shiver. Then she slowly tilted her head to one side, still freezing him in place with her eyes.

For some time it was so quiet, even Leliana’s ravens were still. The first one to break it was, surprisingly, the Iron Bull.

He let out a great booming laugh and strode forward from the group. Everyone flinched at the sudden noise except for Shokrakar herself. Dorian was getting the feeling that she was not the flinching type. Then Bull came up to him and threw an arm around his shoulders with more than a little unnecessary weight.

“Don’t mind him!” he said, beaming obliviously at the still impassive captain, “My Kadan didn’t mean to be rude!” Then he gave Dorian a very pointed glance. “He didn’t, did he?”

Dorian felt thoroughly patronized. He also felt like it was in his best interest to let it go. He coughed.  
“No, I did not,” he said, “I do beg your pardon, my lady.”

But she was no longer looking at him. Now she was looking at Bull, and her eyes slowly changed from frosty regard to the brightest, most beaming smile Dorian had ever seen.

“Kadan?” She crowed, her voice lighting up the entire room with her glee. “A ‘Vint is your kadan?” Then she threw her head back and laughed raucously, even as her men (and the Inquisitor) visibly relaxed around her.  
“Oh, you must tell me everything!”


	17. Inquisitor being protective of them and their relationship?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: how about the Inquisitor being protective of them and their relationship?

“Inquisitor, I really don’t think this is wise.”  
Cullen was frowning and drumming his fingers on his sword hilt. Leliana and Josephine were standing next to him, looking equally pensive and facing off Inquisitor Adaar, who was glaring at them.

“Noted,” she said. “I am not doing it because it is wise, or careful, or in any way political. I am doing this because they asked me to and I am not about to turn down such an honor.”

Cullen sighed. “It’s not the honor that is in question here, Inquisitor. This is entirely unprecedented in so many ways. A Tal-Vashoth and a Tevinter Altus? A heathen handfasting?”  
Adaar cut him off with a growl, and Josephine continued for him.  
“No matter how you present it, the chantry will not recognize your authority on the matter. And the nobles will not accept a union made without the Maker’s blessing.”

Adaar slammed both her hands down on the war table.  
“No! They will recognize my authority on the matter, and they will accept a union made with my blessing.”

She took a step back and continued more calmly. “I’m not saying this won’t be trouble. I’m saying I don’t care. My dearest friends found each other in midst of the greatest darkness of their lives. Now they wish to be married. I will marry them, and the law will recognize them as husbands. Anyone who has issue with that is very welcome to take it up with me.”

She crossed her arms and glared, lowering her horns ever so slightly. Josephine sighed and shrugged. “Very well then. I assume you will want a big celebration?”

Adaar raised her head and her expression slowly morphed from stubborn frowning into bright, unmitigated glee.

“Oh yes!” She exclaimed with a laugh, “And I want you to invite absolutely everyone!”


	18. Older long haired Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Yogurt-gun](http://yogurt-gun.tumblr.com/): Older long haired Dorian and people being surprised he's got Bull for his lover

The sun was high in the sky and very hot when the Bull’s Chargers finally came up the road that led to the mansion of House Pavus. Olive trees lined the way and a tall green hedge ran all the way around the estate, breached only at one point by a heavy metal gate.

Bull hung back as they approached it, letting Krem go first. He would not admit it, but he was nervous. It had been five years now, and even though they had written often, he did not really know what to expect. Also the feeling of missing Dorian had settled as a dull ache into his very bones, and he did not quite trust himself to remain composed right now.

As they reached it, the gate swung open on it’s own and they entered, looking about in wonder. The front garden of the house was large enough to be considered a park in its own right. It had trees and bushes with flowers in all colors, ponds with marble statues, gazebos and benches, the works. Bull couldn’t help but gape a little.

They walked up the garden path in silent awe, and Bull was so taken with his surroundings that he was completely surprised by the sudden shout Krem gave. When Bull looked, there was an old man running down from the house to meet them, throwing his arms around Krem. “My boy,” he sobbed, “Cremisius, my boy.” Krem just buried his face into his fathers shoulder.

Bull stepped around them carefully and looked up to the house. It was huge, a great wall of doors and windows, and the porch was full of people. There were some humans and many elves, and Bull noted that none of them were collared. House Pavus did not own slaves, not since Dorian had succeeded his father in the magisterium, five years ago.

Many faces were staring at him in curiosity and, as he noted with pleasure, without fear. Then the great main door opened with a dramatic swing. Dorian stood there and Bull’s mouth dropped.

He was wearing flowing robes in gold and black, adorned with the typical Tevinter spikes and embroidered with his house sigil. He carried an ornate staff, fashioned like twisting snakes. His hair was long now, reaching over his shoulders in dark waves, silky and inviting, and his face had not aged a day.

Later, Bull would find little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and even the first grey hairs, and he would spend long hours and days recovering the beauty of his Kadan to his mind, rebuilding their familiarity and their love after their long separation.

But now, now all he could see was Dorian as he had ridden out of Skyhold so long ago. The initial paralysis left them both and they ran towards each other and fell into each others arms.

There was a collective gasp from all the assembled servants and friends of the house, followed by resounding silence. Bull laughed against Dorian’s mouth and through his own tears. He thrust one hand deep into Dorian’s hair, letting it run through his fingers even as Dorian’s lips pressed to his and lit all his nerves on fire.

He did not care about all the whispering and startled murmuring that started up around them. They would all just need to get used to it.


	19. Vashoth!Dorian Qunari! Bull – Demands of the Qun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Vashoth!Dorian Qunari! Bull – Demands of the Qun.

When Bull rode out of Skyhold to meet the Qun again, Dorian stood on the battlements and watched him go. It was weak of him, he supposed, that he did not say goodbye, but he could not face it. He knew that he might nor forgive himself for that, but well. Bull was Hissrad, Dorian knew that and had always known that, and forgetting it was beyond foolish. He knew this day would come. The Qun wasted nothing.

The mission was only supposed to be a simple dreadnought run, kill some smugglers and then go back to normal. Dorian knew that this was not it, that this was the Qun pulling on Bull’s leash. They were concerned with how native he had gone, they had to be. They may even have heard about Dorian. Bull may even have told them.

Because in the end, that was who he was. The spy, the liar. The enemy. And no matter how hard Dorian tried, he could not bring himself to think of him as Hissrad. Oh, he was good. And when he came back, if he came back, what would his new orders be? Would Dorian even know the person who would come riding back through the gates?

He stood on the battlements through the night, through the snow that started falling and the chilling morning dew that fell on him like it fell on the stones of Skyhold. He stood and stared out into the mountains until snow blindness made the world twirl and spark, and he could see no more.

The snow was still falling weeks later when Bull returned. Dorian watched him ride through the gates again, but he kept his distance. It had to end. He could not let himself fall back into this, whatever it was.

Bull looked up at him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something there, something like pain, or hope. He swung down from his horse, handed the rains to Krem, and started to climb the steps up to Dorian.


	20. One of the boys commissions the other a new weapon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/): One of the boys commissions the other a new weapon.

By the time they came back to the dragon’s carcass, the Inquisition supply workers had already done a good job of breaking it up. Bull was quietly glad he didn’t have to watch that. He had no qualms about killing her. If you are very powerful and go savage, a hero will come and kill you. That was as it should be.

But still, seeing such a majestic creature lie dead and watching her get flayed were two very different things. But now there was nothing left but the bones. Temporary pavilions had been erected for tanning the hide and salting the meat, but the skeleton was left to get eaten clean by bugs and all they could do was wait.

Eleanne was walking around, inspecting the work and whistling a happy tune. Bull stepped up to the dragon’s head and ran his hand over the massive brow.

At last she came up to him and smiled. “Quite the skull, yes? Maybe we should mount it in Skyhold.”

Bull nodded thoughtfully. “Hm, yes. Maybe over the hall entrance? That’d certainly leave an impression.”

Eleanne chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a worthy spot for her. The rest of the bones we can use for making stuff. I’m told they make for great weapons and armor. Dagna’s been dying to get her hands on some.”

Bull nodded, and then a thought struck him. “Say, boss, could I have a bone? A rib maybe or one of the phalanges?”

“Sure you can. What do you want to make? I thought you loved your new axe.”

“Oh, I do, I do… The best I’ve ever had. No, I think I would like to have a staff made.”

Eleanne looked up at him, surprised for a second before a knowing glint came into her eye.

“A staff, huh? For a mage, maybe?”

Bull just grinned at her and winked, and she grinned back.

“I’m sure Dagna would gladly take your commission on that,” she said, “though Dorian seems quite happy with the staff he has, you know.”

Bull shook his head. “Nah, not really. It’s too heavy for him.”

“Really?” Eleanne frowned. “He never said anything…”

“That’s how you know it’s a problem. It’s a good weapon, and he’s grateful you gave it to him. But he loses time blocking with it, and gets tired swinging it. Needs something lighter.”

Eleanne grinned. “And the fact that you get to see him fighting with a dragon’s bone has nothing to do with it?”

Bull blinked at her innocently and she grinned even wider. “Take whatever you need, Bull. I think it’s romantic.”

A few days later, back in Skyhold, Dagna actually squeed when presented with a few design ideas for a mage’s staff and a dragon’s wingbone.

“Oh, this will be beautiful!” she exclaimed, “And so romantic!”

Bull laughed. Whatever Dorian would think about the gesture, he knew now that at least in two cultures, it was considered romantic.


	21. Dorian going 'wtf???' at relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: so when the inquisitor romances dorian and tells him he want something more, dorian is, 'speechless'. So dorian being very 'wtf???' when he finds out that the bull wants a relationship?

“What exactly are you suggesting?”  
Dorian was standing in the middle of the room, half dressed and more than half panicked. Bull was still lying on the bed, entirely naked and entirely sure he had misstepped.

“Nothing in particular,” he said carefully and sat up, “just that you needn’t run off like this.”

Dorian huffed. “Run off? I’m not ‘running off’. I am leaving. It’s what is generally expected after sex. What am I supposed to do staying here?”

Bull’s heart sank a little, he couldn’t help it. He knew it was probably foolish, but he found he couldn’t just let it go. Let Dorian go. He might not come back. That would be bad, he found. Very bad. Bull lay back down on the bed, trying to look non-threatening and patient.

“Sleep, Dorian,” he explained, “that’s what you do in a bed when you stopped having sex in it. That’s kinda what it’s for.”

Making jokes might help. Dorian was frowning though.

“This,” he gestured to both of them, “is…” he faltered for a second and then caught himself. “You know that ‘sleeping together’ is a euphemism, yes?”

Bull shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Dorian fiddled with his shirt. He looked very unsure, but Bull noted that he had also not put it back on. That might just be progress. Instead, Dorian turned to the tiny window and looked out.

“This… domesticity you seem to be suggesting. You realize it comes with implications?”

Bull shrugged again, though Dorian now had his back turned and could not see it. “Yeah, sort of. I’m not sure what the implications are, exactly.”

Dorian spun around to him, his eyes sparking in something like anger. “It is something couples do!”

Bull couldn’t help but smile at that. “Hm, that sounds good,” he said without thinking and Dorian gawked at him.

Bull sat up again. “Is that so hard to believe? Hey, I don’t even know what that means. Not really. But I’m getting the feeling you don’t either. So we’re more or less on an even keel here, and we might as well try…” Bull trailed off when he noticed that he was rambling.

Dorian was still staring. He was shivering in the cold mountain air, half dressed as he was, and he had started darting glances between Bull and the door. The battle in his mind was so plainly visible on his face, Bull nearly sighed to see it. He wanted Dorian to stay, badly, but this also clearly needed to move at Dorian’s pace.

“Tell you what, big guy. It’s dark and cold outside. Tonight, you stay here and we sleep, not as a couple. Just people who don’t like stumbling through the dark and cold. And then, when you’re ready, we can try it again. That sound like a plan?”

Dorian darted another glance to the door, and then looked back at Bull. Then he sighed.

“I’m not stupid, Bull. I know exactly what you are doing here, and I am not falling for it.”

Bull just nodded.

“But I concede that it is most unpleasant out there, and marginally less unpleasant in here.”

Bull fought down his grin and just nodded again, as solemnly as he could. Dorian sighed as if defeated, but Bull could clearly see the tiny little smile in the corner of Dorian’s mouth as he slipped out of his trousers again.


	22. Dorian has never been kissed before Bull.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Justjasper: Dorian has never been kissed before Bull.](http://justjasper.tumblr.com/)

The first time it happens, Bull doesn’t process it. In the heat of their first night together he has Dorian pinned to the wall and leans down to kiss him. Dorian twists away at the same time and sinks his teeth into Bull’s shoulder instead. Bull is not complaining.

The next time Bull tries, it’s the same thing. Dorian always turns away and distracts him in some way. Dorian is very good at distractions. And Bull doesn’t mind. He hasn’t ever met anyone who didn’t want to kiss, but there’s someone for everything, both in the likes and the dislikes, and that’s completely fine.

He decides to just ask. They are sitting side by side on Bull’s bed, naked and tousled, catching their breath. Bull looks down at Dorian.

“So,” he says, “you really don’t like kissing, huh?”  
Dorian freezes. Bull can see the acerbic comment right in the front of his mind, but something in his eyes twists with pain and he can’t seem to get it out. He just shakes his head jerkily. Bull decides to try something. Test a theory.

Very gently he picks up one of Dorian’s hands. He keeps his eye firmly on Dorian’s face, reading his expression. He seems spooked, but not about the skitter off quite yet. Then Bull presses his lips to the back of Dorian’s hand.

Dorian’s entire body freezes up, tense and motionless but for the tremor that has starts up in his chest. He catches his breath, almost a whimper. Bull puts the hand down again slowly and then turns on the bed until he’s facing Dorian fully.

“Dorian,” he says, careful and serious, “We don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t want me to kiss you, I won’t ever do it again.”

Dorian’s shoulders sag a little, and his eyes are ever so slightly wet. He shakes his head again. Bull goes on.

“But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?”

Dorian sighed a little and then cleared his throat. He was still looking Bull in the eye, but his gaze was wavering. At last he looked away.

“It’s not that I dislike kissing. It’s just, well, I never have.”

Bull stares at him in shock, but Dorian is looking down at the sheets now and does not see it.

“It simply is not done, between people who are not a couple. I can’t say why. It must seem ridiculous to you.”

Bull sighs and strokes a finger over the back of Dorian’s hand, the spot he had kissed. “Nah,” he says, trying to sound lighter than he feels. “Makes sense to keep being a fling and being a couple apart somehow. Less messy that way.”

He is looking down now too. They sit like that for a while, both looking at their hands and not their faces where they lie on the sheets, close enough to touch, but not quite. Bull ponders the words. He will miss kissing a lot, but he would miss Dorian more.

But then Dorian reaches out. He takes Bull’s left hand in one of his, and slowly, ever so slowly, raises it to his mouth. Dorian’s lips are soft and warm on the back of Bull’s hand, barely damp at all and so amazingly gentle. The kiss only lasts a second, but it makes Bull’s breathing stop completely. Only the small warm spot on his hand matters now.

Dorian looks up again and meets Bull’s eye. “Kissing is a very strange thing to do, if you are not used to it. I find I might like to get used to it, in time.”

Bull just beams.


	23. Tevinter Courtship Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [ Captaincorale](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com): Krem tells Bull about some of the OTT gestures that Tevinters do during the courting process. Bull thinks he'll do some of them to see Dorian's reaction. It's up to you which stage they're at in their relationship at this point.

“So, Chief, you want the ‘Vint?”  
Krem is sitting next to Bull in the usual corner of the tavern and Dorian is leaning against the bar, arguing with Cabot. Bull is watching him, in a very unsubtle way, and is so distracted that all Krem gets for his needling is a vague grunt.

“You know he’s an Altus, right? Don’t think you’ll get very far with your usual strategy of growling crude shit at him until he snaps.”

Bull turns to frown at Krem. “Hey now! That’s a time honored tactic! Hasn’t let me down yet. And anyway, very few people ever want to fuck the Qunari for his refined manners and taste.”

Krem laughs. “If anyone would, it’d be the Alti. Trust me on this, they love the refined shit. You should see some of the maneuvering they do before they fuck. It’s quite the sight to see.”

Bull blinks. “Huh. How do you know about that?”  
Krem just grins at him. “Oh, everyone knows. Trust me, if you live anywhere near a bigger city in Tevinter, you know exactly who wants into who’s pants, and how. In detail. It’s basically public entertainment.”

“That’s weird,” Bull says. “Dorian doesn’t strike me as the ‘court someone in public’ kind of guy.”  
The smile falls from Krem’s face quicker than Bull could blink. “Well, no,” he says, “courting’s not something you can do for someone of the same gender, of course.” Bull’s smile falls too. “Ah.” He says, and then grows thoughtful.

“Hm,” he says at last, “say someone wanted to court him, and do it right. How would this hypothetical someone go about that?”  
The smile slowly returns to Krem’s face until he is beaming. “Oh! Oh this is going to be great. Alright, listen up. And don’t ever actually do this in Tevinter.”

Krem shuffles forward on his seat and turns to face Bull, blocking his view on Dorian and getting his full attention. Then he holds up his hand and counts off the points.

“First of all. Him being of higher status than you means that he is supposed to court you. What you will be doing won’t be so much courting as just dropping heavy hints. If he retaliates, you’re golden.”

Bull raised an eyebrow at the word “retaliate”, but did not interrupt.

“Second. Marriages are political, but so are one night stands, in some cases. You want to demonstrate that you can be a political asset.”  
Bull shakes his head in confusion. “That’s… weird. How do I do that?”  
Krem’s grin spreads even further. Oh, but he is enjoying himself. “Easy. You need to debate him in a public forum. And you need to lose by agreement.”  
Bull just stares. “Okay…” he says, “then what happens?”

Krem raises another finger. “Third. The Alti’s status derives from the magisterial seat of their parents. But that’s not all that status is about. As the lower ranking one, demonstrate that you bring something to the affair that his birthright doesn’t. You are not a mage, so you’ll need to improvise. A feat of strength might do. He’d certainly still get it.”

Bull taps his fingers against his mug in thought. “So, that basically just means ‘do something really fucking difficult for him?’”

Krem nods. “See? You’re getting it. Only it’s ‘do something really fucking difficult and spectacularly public for him’. Do impressive stuff and talk about it, as they say.”

“Right, yeah. Public, got it. I’ll find something. And then?”

“Then you want to demonstrate your interest in him, and him exclusively. This is the fun part. You have options, but I think the dinner party program will be easiest around here…” Krem thinks for a second, “Ah yes, perfect. And perfectly simple. You just need to give a dinner party, invite him as your guest of honor, and put him before your other guests who outrank him.”

Bull just looks confused and Krem takes a drink before he goes on. “Well, here he’s only really outranked in any way by the boss, and Adaar won’t mind. Or have anyone killed, that’s always a plus… But anyway, you can stick to the simple, subtle stuff. Invite him first. Give him the better seat. Have his wine served first. That kind of thing.”

Bull nods along with a slow smile. This could actually be fun, in a weird, posh and outmoded kind of way. He would certainly like to know what Dorian would do. Especially in the context of what the Bull wanted this party to be. He’d show Dorian dinner party, all right.

“So, then what happens?” he asks.

“Well, at this point he should have gotten the hint. If he hasn’t, rinse and repeat. If he has, and he is interested, brace yourself. And that’s all there is to it, really.”

Bull went over the points in his mind again, and then came up short. “Wait. What do you mean ‘brace yourself’?”

Krem just gives his best shit eating grin and winks. “I am not telling you how he’ll court you back Chief! Sorry, that’d just ruin the surprise.” Then he drains his ale quickly and gets up, before Bull can retaliate. This was going to be amazing.


	24. Dorian takes Dalish's place on the Storm Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Theladylily](http://theladylily.tumblr.com/):  
> Dalish gets sick before going to the Storm Coast, and since is not going to Storm Coast with the Inquisitor and he has grown fond of the Charges, so Dorian offers to take her place and assist them, without Bull and the Inquisitor knowing."

Bull stood on the hill again. He knew this place.  
_Not again. Please, not again._

The rain was poring down in sheets, the sound of fighting was all around them and the crunching of steel oars in the water under pinned it all like a dull pain. The Venatori were approaching, gaining the beach, gaining the other hill. They moved forwards like ants over a carcass, and clear as day he knew what would happen. There were two paths his life could take, and all of his decisions had led to this crossroad. His men or the Qun. His life as the Iron Bull or the Qun.  
His decision was usually the same.

Just as he lifted the horn to his lips, he saw it. Those strange purple swirls above the battlefield he knew so well, had seen in so many fights. Impossible, he could not be here. It was impossible. He blew into the horn as hard as he could, all thoughts of the Qun falling from his mind. But no sound came. No sound, nothing, the horn in his hands was just dead wood, and they kept coming, kept coming like ants…

_Not again. Please, not again._

With a strangled gasp he tore out of the dream. He found himself lying on his bed, dry and safe. The ceiling was spinning as he struggled to breathe, for a long time.  
At last he took notice that a voice was talking to him, slow but urgent, and very sweet. He also felt a hand on his shoulder now, warm too like the voice, and beloved. He was back at Skyhold. Dorian was still with him. He was Tal-Vashoth and the Iron Bull lived. Dorian still lived.

Slowly the room came back into focus, and so did Dorian. He was sitting naked on the bed beside him, his face a mask of worry and pain.  
“I’m sorry, Bull,” he said, as he always did in times like these now.  
Bull reached up to stroke his face, in the same way he did when Dorian had to be torn from his dreams, trips to the fade where he saw Bull lying dead, wreathed in wisps of red lyrium infection.  
“It’s alright, Kadan,” Bull whispered. “At least we have matching nightmares now.”


	25. Bull asks Dorian to top him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: So, we know that, in general, Bull is a Dom. But there's no reason he can't occasionally need some of that from Dorian. So let's see the first time Bull asks Dorian if they can change up rolls, for whatever reason. Can be sexual, or not, it doesn't matter to me.

“Kadan…” Bull sighed deeply, sinking down onto the mattress next to Dorian, who was lying on his back, boneless and already half asleep. No sooner had Bull laid down though, Dorian rolled over lazily and cuddled up to his side.  
“Hm…” He mumbled against Bull’s chest, “You are so good at that…”  
Bull grinned. “Oh, you bet. Nice of you to notice, though.”  
Dorian poked him in the ribs for that. Gently though. Dorian was always gentle. Sure, outside he was all sharp glares and barbed words, but his touches were so sweet and soft. Bull loved the affection in both.  
“Tell me,” Dorian continued, “have you ever been on the receiving end of this kind of treatment?”

Bull chuckled. “Is that an offer, Kadan? That almost sounded like an offer.”  
Dorian sat up rather suddenly and looked down at Bull. “Is that something you want?” he asked, unsure.  
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean it as a hint.”  
Dorian’s brow creased, so Bull reached up to smooth it again. He loved doing that, it always made Dorian grumble a litte.  
“But you could,” he said, sounding serious now. Bull just gently tugged him back down. “Come now, Kadan, time to sleep. If you can still argue, I must have done something wrong.”  
Dorian lay down again and kissed Bull’s chest. “If that is something you would like, amatus, you have just to ask. You do know that, yes?”  
“Yes, Kadan,” Bull said, smiling, “good night.”  
Dorian fell asleep quickly after that, but Bull did not. He lay awake for quite some time, staring at the ceiling and thinking.

When Dorian woke up the next morning, he almost expected Bull to mention it. There was something in the look he got in his eye, or a certain feeling when they kissed good-morning, but nothing happened.  
Next he expected to forget about it himself, but that also didn’t happen. Something about the thought stuck, burrowing it’s way into his mind. It wasn’t that he never did anything for Bull, but to be in a position to completely take care of him… that was new. And it also made his heart flutter. Very strange.

It did not take that long, in the end. Barely a week had passed when Dorian slipped into Bull’s room again to find him sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and fingering several lengths of strong rope. He looked up briefly when Dorian came in. He almost looked embarrassed.  
Dorian quickly closed the door behind him and approached the bed, his pulse quickening. If this was about something for Dorian, Bull would not be so shy.  
“I have been, you know,” Bull said.  
Dorian did not ask, just settled on the bed across from Bull and waited patiently.  
“Been on the receiving end, that is. A long time ago.” He almost sighed as he said it and continued to stroke the ropes. They were plain and rough and sturdy. Dorian thought they might even hold Bull. The bedframe, on the other hand, that was a different matter.  
Dorian waited for some time, but no more comments were forthcoming. “Bull, amatus,” he said, “is this you, asking?”  
Bull nodded. “Yeah…” he said quietly, and then snorted. “Bah, look at me, going all ‘blushing virgin’ on you. It’s just been a while, you know? Anyway, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  
He started putting the ropes aside again and Dorian reached out to stop him.  
“I have never been on this end either, but I do find I would very much like to try.”

Bull had been nervous, so very nervous, but now he could not remember why. He could not remember much of anything, to be honest, but least of all could he recall any anxiety or fear.  
He lay on his back, blindfolded and with his arms and legs tied to the bed, and he felt utterly safe. He had to help Dorian a little with the knots, and he could not pull too hard or risk breaking the bed, but the ropes were tight and close around him, Dorian’s presence was also close and warm and gentle and nothing mattered anymore.  
In the end he hadn’t told Dorian what to do, he had just given him the ropes and mumbled something or other, and Dorian had taken them and asked for his help with the knots and then made everything here his own.  
And he was so gentle. Bull would never cease to be amazed. Dorian did not want to be treated gently himself most of the time, but left to his own devices like this, he was so sweet it made Bull’s eye sting a little.  
He had taken the ropes from Bull carefully, and then he had wrapped his silk shirt and underthings around Bull’s limbs where he bound them, to keep the ropes from chafing. No one had ever done that before, and Bull had never thought of it, not on himself. The ropes he used on Dorian were silk themselves, very smooth and soft, but when he had chosen ropes for himself, those that could actually hold him, he had never even given it a second thought.  
People were not gentle with Bull. Not that anyone had ever been downright cruel to him, but no one had ever thought that far past his thick hide and broad frame either. And it was ok, he didn’t mind. He liked most forms that sex came in, he could take as good as he gave and enjoy it.  
But Dorian… Dorian’s hands were all over him now, his mouth too, and Bull did not know where he would be touched next, or what would happen, but he knew that it would be beautiful.  
He smiled, all the way through.


	26. Dorian realizes he's basically moved into Bull's room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Cyber-fairie: The moment Dorian realizes he's basically moved into Bull's room without even realizing it.

When Dorian strolled into the warroom the next morning, he did not notice that something was off at first. Well, he was distracted, but really there was no excuse for missing the way Cullen was giving him side glances. Not so long ago, side glances had been a matter of life and death. He should be paying attention.

When he did, he noticed that he was getting them from more than one direction. In fact, Vivienne and Leliana were also watching him with something that looked like concern. He surreptitiously stretched his neck, trying to feel if he was showing any too obvious bruises, but came to the conclusion that he was not. Everything was normal.

After the mission briefing, Vivienne took him aside. Finally, here it comes, he thought.

“Darling, is everything alright between you and the Bull?” She asked when they were out of earshot and he started in surprise.

“Yes, of course,” he said, “why wouldn’t it be?”

“Ah, that is good to hear. It’s just, you appear to have slept in your own room last night.”

Dorian blinked. Then he looked down at himself and laughed when he understood. This was the first time he was wearing new clothes first thing in the morning.

And then his laughter slowed into a smile when he remembered why that was. This morning, when he had snuck out of bed to get to the briefing, leaving Bull asleep and content in the bed, he had picked a complete new outfit out of Bull’s closet.


	27. Adoribull inspired by Nature Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Adoribull – Nature Boy or Gone with the Sin Inspired by either songs.
> 
> I went with Nature Boy, the Ella Fitzgerald version [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBfuoMpabHY&list=PLDCTI5dgAayb6vloU7qXUYLhR7ZVUOkO).

Dim was the light in the cornerhouse pub, and the smoke billowed gray and stale around the flickering lanterns and the lazy ventilator under the ceiling. It was a small little shop, just five or so tables, a bar and a stage.

On the stage there sat a black lady with an old guitar, singing a soothing tune in a fade touched voice. The Iron Bull leaned against a table, took off his hat and surveyed his surroundings. The patrons were drunk, and most of them sad, but the tune was beautiful and the gin was cold, and there was nowhere else to go.

When he turned to the bar, the barman was nowhere in sight, but at his elbow sat a tumbler of whiskey and a note.  
 _  
If you can help me  
Remain a free man  
I’ll make it worth your while  
As best I can  
_  
The Bull looked around. At a single table, apart from the others and covered in shadow, sat the figure of a man. He wore a long coat with the collar raised and a broad hat. Bull could see little of him but his eyes, staring at him. They were deep amber brown, like the whiskey, and they shone, piercing and sad.

Picking up the glass and approaching the table the Bull saw that he was young, or close to it. His brown skin matched his eyes, and his hair and mustache were jet black. He was beautiful in a way few men were, and when Bull came near he smiled. Bull’s breath caught to see it.

He dragged out another chair and sat down across from him. “So,” he started, and found that his own voice sounded rough now to his own ears, “what can I do for you, and what can you do for me?”

The beautiful man shrugged and held up both his hands to show that they were empty. Then he spoke, and his voice was like smoke in candlelight, sultry and dark, but covering a spark of humor.  
 _  
“I’m not a rich man  
As you can see  
I don’t have much  
but secrets on me”  
_  
Bull stared at him for a long time unblinking. The sounds and the sights around him seemed sharper now, clear and almost painful, and it took him long seconds before he found his voice again.

“Well,” he said, “I will take a secret then.”

The man nodded solemnly, hiding his smile. Then his gaze went past the Bull to the door and his smile died completely. The Bull turned, and the door opened.

In came a woman. She was dressed as a lady, refined and proud, all in black but for the red carnations on her sleeve. Her eyes shone like the man’s eyes, but there was coldness there and a vast unfeeling silence. The Bull wondered at it, until he noticed that the song had stopped and a hush had fallen over the crowd.

Without time to think if it was wise, he jumped up from his seat and, ignoring the cold that was creeping up his skin, approached her. Her eyes fixed on him with power, and he felt his steps falter and his voice die in his throat.

“Excuse me,” he croaked, “I thought that I knew you.”

She gave no answer, but held him in place with her eyes for a long time. At last she released him, and he nearly gasped with relief, though he could not say why. She looked about and the Bull looked too. The man was gone.

He turned to leave, his whiskey forgotten, and outside the door he found him again. He was leaning against the wall to avoid the rain.

“It seems that I helped you,” said the Bull, “will you give me a secret now?”

The man smiled and nodded.

“Alright then, I want to know why you are running away.”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment, but then he reached out and took the Bull’s hand. His own where warm and soft, but unexpectedly strong, opening the Bull’s fingers without effort. He placed another piece of paper in his palm and closed them again around it.

Then he pulled himself up lightly on the Bull’s arm and pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek. It was very warm and it tingled. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the man was gone.

In his hand he found another note, cheep ink on a bar napkin, already soggy from the rain.  
 _  
The greatest thing  
You’ll ever learn  
Is just to love  
And be loved in return.  
_


	28. Dorian has a flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [](http://therevoltion.tumblr.com/>Therevoltion</a>:%20Dorian%20has%20a%20flashback%20to%20the%20time%20he%20was%20abducted%20from%20his%20lovers%20bed%20at%20a%20crucial%20moment.)

Dorian was not a morning person. Getting up early always struck him as not just unpleasant but also vaguely uncivilized. All the more reason to believe that Bull was slowly corrupting him.

When he woke up that morning, the sun was only just rising above the walls of the keep. The breeze that blew in through the hole in Bull’s roof was icy, but Dorian barely felt it, cuddled up close as he was against his private furnace that was the Iron Bull. Golden light was filtering through the broken beams, bathing the room in a glow of contentment and peace, and Dorian barely regretted waking up so early.

Instead he extracted himself from Bull’s arms just enough to sit up a little and look down at Bull’s sleeping face, bathed in the same golden light and filling Dorian’s chest up with a sudden sense of warmth and affection that threatened to take his breath away.

Und then Bull was slowly waking up, blinking up at Dorian and smiling. The sunlight was reflecting golden on his silver skin and Dorian’s heart pounded at sight of it. Bull yawned widely and then resumed his languid smiling in the morning light and Dorian suddenly wanted to say it.

Three words that just might convey the way his chest was full to bursting, and how beautiful Bull was to him in that second, and always, and the fact that Dorian knew that he always wanted to wake up like this.

He didn’t want to disturb Bull’s slow waking though and he didn’t want to break the intimate silence. Also he didn’t even know how to say it. He had never said it before. Never. Not even. The one time. He had tried-

The guards were doing their morning patrols on the battlements. Dorian knew they did that, he knew it was just them. But in that second all he could hear was the heavy tread of their boots on stone, coming towards their door. All he could feel was his own overwhelming affection for Bull as it exploded in his chest into a myriad shards of burning cold panic.

He lurched out of bed in a rush and tangle of bedsheets, but his limbs felt like molten lead. Bull called his name in alarm, but he could barely hear it over the sound of wood splintering as a door was kicked from its hinges.

He made for the door of Bull’s room that was still intact and to the one of Rilienus’ bedroom that lay shattered on the floor next to their bed. The slaves were hiding, the guards were dead. They were coming for him. And they might spare Altus Rilienus Angastus, but they would surely kill the Iron Bull.

Dorian reached the door at last and threw himself against it with all his weight. He could not remember the words or concepts of a warding spell, but he could feel the ice in his chest that was burning him and he thrust it into the door with all his might.

Pain lanced through his entire left side and he heard himself scream. It was a solid block of ice that now encased the door and most of the wall, as well as his arm and shoulder. It was the bludgeon swung at him by a sneering thug. Rough hands seized him, tearing him out of the ice, tearing him out of bed, and Dorian spun and kicked.

His feet only found empty air and he fell. He connected hard with the floor, crumpling into it like his limbs no longer held him.

He remembered… nothing. Not how to move, not where he was, not what the raging pain in his chest meant. Not why he was on the floor. All he could hear was his own breathing, like a storm in his ears.

Time did not seem to pass, but he knew that he must have been lying like that for a long time. Slowly though he came to realize that his eyes were open, and what he could see was coalescing back into meaning, into a representation of real things, things he knew. A room.

He could see the rough wooden floorboards, cracked and full of splinters with their age. He could see one leg of the bed, a darker wood than the floor and very sturdy. These things were there. And maybe so was he. And something else too, someone. Sitting several yards away from him on the floor, but in Dorian’s sight, naked and with his legs crossed. Gray, scarred skin, an enormous body.

Bull. The Iron Bull. Of course. How could he have forgotten?

“Dorian?” Bull’s voice was so familiar. It was low and a little rough, and it also sounded sad and worried. Dorian never wanted it to sound like that. But it must have been something he did… oh yes, right.

His mind still felt like it was being held underwater. He coudn’t quite make sense of his surroundings yet. He was aware that something had happened, and that he was mistaken about something, but it didn’t quite make sense. Bull was now shuffling closer and talking.

“…That guard got something he didn’t recon with, that’s for sure. Let’s hope they have the good sense not too try the other doors…”

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Dorian is fairly sure it doesn’t have to. Bull is just making noise for him to hang on to. And it works, a bit. Bull’s voice is warm and calm, but it’s the pleasant kind. Not the sick warmth of panic or the calm that comes with forgetting your own name.

And then Bull was suddenly right next to him. Not touching, just offering. Dorian could see one of his hands lie right next to his own. It was huge and scarred and gray, and two fingers were half missing. Familiar.

Dorian stretched his fingers out until they brushed Bull’s hand. That felt good. Grounding. Bull was still talking and Dorian just let the sound wash over him as the world put itself back together again. It was going to be alright.


	29. Dragon!Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Trashbien](http://trashbien.tumblr.com/): Dragon!Dorian. Dorian hides it with magic or some kind of amulet, but at some point his secret comes out. Obvious appearance changes, like scales on some parts of his skin, maybe little horns idk let your fantasy go wild~ some porn would be nice too, but only if you feel like it! cause dragon.. and bull.. y'know~

In retrospect, Bull is not sure how he feels about the fact that Dorian managed to pull the wool over his eyes so thoroughly and for so long. Slightly chagrined, sure. Old and slow? That too. Disappointed that they lost so much time? Definitely.

Bull had known that something was strange about Dorian since he had first seen him. At the time he had just attributed that to him being a Vint. The amount of overlap was actually quite astonishing. The arrogance, the noble bearing, the immense magical power.

Not that any of these should have made Bull suspicious, not really. Because going around suspecting people of actually being dragons in disguise went far beyond reasonable caution and healthy paranoia and right into crazy town.

But still. As time went by and he got to know Dorian better (in every sense) the red flags started to accumulate. Dorian always needed to be warm, and could indeed lose body heat at an alarming rate when insufficiently dressed. Also he had a tendency to mutter in dead languages while thinking. And Bull was fairly confident that the amount of books he had bought, pilfered or stolen in his time with the inquisition now rightfully could be called a hoard.

But no, Bull had not suspected a thing. And, as is often the case when going into a situation with insufficient intel, he managed to thoroughly fuck it up.

Which was how he found himself standing half naked in his room amidst the smolding ruins of his bed, facing off against a very frightened and very angry Dorian.

And up until that point, the evening had gone swimmingly. They had a few drinks in the tavern, Bull made a few lewd remarks, Dorian had been indignant. And then, as tended to happen these days, they had ended up stumbling up the stairs together.

By the time they had reached Bull’s room, they were kissing at awkward angles, tugging at clothing and nearly missing the door. At last Bull reached past Dorian, shoved the door open and bustled a very eager mage inside. They fell onto the bed together in a tangle up limbs and Dorian groaned when Bull started to kiss down his neck and nibble on his exposed collarbone.

He loved it when Dorian got like this. When he gave up his cool facade and revealed his more primal side, eager and needy. And so he told him.

“Ah, so beautiful, Dorian,” he mumbled into his skin, “so eager for me. So good when you get like this, glorious one…”

Dorian stiffened underneath him. And Bull, being more than a little distracted, missed it for a critical second.

“Ataashi…”

Dorian gave a sudden, panicked yell, and Bull jerked back just in time to avoid the explosion of flame that would have caught him right in the face. With all the speed that his combat instincts still afforded him, Bull leapt up and off the bed.

The entire thing was wreathed in flame for a split second, and Bull could feel the heat of it singe his eyebrows. Then a great plume of smoke enveloped half the room. He could not see a thing, but whatever had just happened hopefully couldn’t see him either.

He backed up against the wall and started sidling towards the door, where his axe stood. Before he could get far though, the smoke quickly dissipated through the hole in the roof. It revealed a singed and smoking bed, and on the other side, well, Dorian.

Or something that looked like him. He was wearing nothing but his silky smallclothes now and his brown skin was mostly gone, replaced with a pattern of smooth, black and gold scales. his face was still the same, but from between his hair rose two curled, perfect brown horns.

Bull just stared. And Dorian stared back. Bull noticed that he was glaring, but his shoulders and chest were trembling. And then he snarled, drawing his lips back to reveal a row of perfectly shaped, pointed teeth.

Bull had not forgotten his axe. If he was fast enough, he might just… And then Dorian growled. It might have been intimidating to anyone else, but Bull recognised the sound. It was Dorian’s own voice, and it too was shaking under his bluster.

Bull raised both hands carefully. “Dorian…?” he asked.

And Dorian actually huffed. It was such a characteristic sound, so dear and familiar, that Bull couldn’t help but laugh. That made Dorian glare harder, but also relax, just a little.

“That really is you, big guy?” Bull asked.

“Yes, obviously,” Dorian snapped. Now he actually sounded annoyed. “Who else would I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know! You gotta forgive a guy for being a bit surprised when his, uh, bedpartner, suddenly turns into…”

Bull gestured to Dorian. He didn’t know what to say.

Dorian relaxed a little more and actually sighed. “A dragon, Bull. The word you are looking for is ‘dragon’.”

Bull’s jaw dropped. “No. fucking. way.” He exclaimed in a rush. “You. A dragon. Like, an actual dragon.”

Dorian sighed again. “Yes, obviously,” and then he looked away and swallowed heavily. “Now, if you must try to kill me, can you get it over with? I hate the fighting part.”

“Woah, wait, wait!” Bull exclaimed, suddenly even more alarmed. “No one is doing any fighting here!”

Dorian blinked at him.

“What we are going to do is some explaining instead, ok?”

Dorian swallowed again, and Bull could see even from a distance that his eyes were growing wet. “Alright,” he said, “What do you want to know?”

“Huh.” Bull did not know where to even begin.

“Or maybe you want the basics first?” Dorian asked and then took a deep breath. “Alright. First: I am a dragon. Not a high dragon, obviously. I am a lot more male and I like think a lot more sensible.”

Bull nodded dumbly.

“Words have power. If you call something what it is, you can severely disrupt a concealment spell. As you might have noticed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

And then Bull laughed. He didn’t know why, he just suddenly needed to. A great roaring laugh that lasted several seconds, while Dorian stood before him, scaly and half naked, with an indignant glare.

He was still Dorian. Maybe not human, but Bull was never one to be particular about species. Also, now that he had the chance to look at Dorian for a while… well. He was beautiful. The scales covered the outsides of his arms and legs, his shoulders and chest. His belly was still skin, and judging by his neat pleasure trail that led into his smalls, down there everything was probably still familiar. His face was as radiant as ever, he just had the slightest black tinge on his cheekbones now. And those horns… Bull found he very much wanted to know what they felt like.

They looked like Qunari horns, but it would not hurt to check. Also Dorian still stood facing Bull, so there was no telling what his back and backside looked like.

Dorian fidgeted. “If you are quite done staring…” He muttered.

“Then what?” Bull asked.

“Then you get to decide what we do now.”

Bull just smiled at him. “Oh, I know what to do now.”

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you cannot be serious!”

Bull laughed again. “Well, I was thinking of getting us something to drink first. And then talk some more. And then see where that takes us?”

Dorian shook his head in a gesture of exasperation. Bull knew that his thing was very likely to bite him in the ass, or to blow up in his face. Again. But then on the other hand, Dorian was still Dorian. That was better than good enough for him.


	30. destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/): One word Adoribull prompt: destruction.

The Iron Bull had seen a lot of destruction in his time. Walls, castles, dreadnoughts, even the sky. If asked, he could safely say that he knew his stuff when it came to things going to shit.

But still he would have to admit that seeing the temple of sacred ashes rip itself from the ground and go rising up, showering all of them with bricks and rocks, was at least somewhat unexpected. As was the fact that Dorian was still inside.

Bull did not have much time to watch and wonder. All around them the battle raged on, as it always would. That was just one of the things the Iron Bull knew.

So he stopped looking up at the impossible floating temple that his Kadan was currently trapped on, together with their boss and best friend, and two other very good friends. Instead Bull drew his axe and concentrated on the demons swarming around him.

Because The Iron Bull knew many things. Truths he didn’t need to think about while he fought, and so he didn’t.

The first thing was: Dorian was almost certainly dead. The smallest chance of his survival might yet remain, Bull supposed, but that was the second thing he knew: Do not put your hopes on the offchance.

And so it also was that he also knew that tomorrow morning, he would wake up alone. He knew that the sun would shine brightly through the hole in his roof, and the air would be clean and chilly, and all would be silent.

He knew he would get up in silence, get dressed in silence and then face whatever remained of the world. Because that was the next thing: If he survived this fight himself, his life would go on.

If Dorian did not come down again alive, the Bull’s life would go on exactly as it had before they had ever met. Colder maybe and harder, but still pretty much the same. He would not crumble with grief, he would not give up, he would not stop fighting.

Because this was the one terrible truth known to those who have said goodbye too many times in their lives: It does actually get easier.

Bull wishes he was more ignorant on the topic of destruction.


	31. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: aftercare! :)

Dorian was falling. Not very fast and not even that alarming, but he clearly felt the way his body and being were going down. A distant part of his mind knew that this was not the case, and could not be the case, considering how much rope Bull had bound him with. And yet, the feeling persisted.

It was a strange teetering there, almost on the brink of panic, when Bull had taken his hands away. Not for long, just to get the cloth from the dresser, but it was still almost too much. Dorian heard himself whine, deep in his throat but still far away to his own ears. It was a pathetic little sound, Dorian knew, and probably thoroughly unattractive. But still it worked. In a flash, he had Bull’s hand back on him, as well as that wonderful, rumbling voice close to his ear.

“Shhh…” Bull whispered, “I’m here, Dorian.”

And like magic Dorian felt his panic fade again. His whole mind was closer to the surface now though, and more aware of his surroundings. Those parts of his surroundings that belonged to Bull, at least. But that was the only kind of world he wanted to be a part of right now anyway.

Bull had a way, in these moments, to be everywhere.

The ropes he had bound Dorian with where all over his body, holding his arms and legs and wrapping around his torso. His hands were everywhere too, stroking over Dorian’s exposed skin gently, even as he worked on untying the knots that held him and replacing their touch with his own again. His voice seemed to fill the spaces between and his scent enveloped the rest. He really, truly was here.

It was overwhelming, but Dorian found that he loved it. The sense of safety Bull could create, just like that, the space in which Dorian could let go and float in a way he had never believed possible. Not for him, not in this world.

One by one Bull loosened the knots on the intricate ropework, and with every one that fell away, Dorian became a little more present, a little more real in himself, as an entity seperate from Bull, his words and his hands. His own mind returned to him bit by bit, and more and more he could understand what Bull was saying, and parse the encouragement in actual words more than the feeling of directionless voice and comfort of before.

“There you go, that’s right big guy, go slow, I’ve got you. You are beautiful, all tied up for me, and you’re beautiful coming back to me, kadan…”

And so it went on and Dorian allowed himself some more time to drift in it while he was being untied.

But finally the last knot was done and he needed to come to terms with having his body back. His limbs felt boneless and languid, but he became aware again that he could move them of his own volition. He used his new found freedom to reach for Bull, and to stroke over the nearest part of Bull he could find.

Bull’s skin was somewhat rough almost everywhere, but it felt good under his fingers, warm and familiar now.

And then he was moving again, but he was not doing it himself. For a second he tensed, disoriented, until he understood that Bull was laying him out on the bed, straightening his arms and legs and getting him comfortable. That was alright, Dorian decided. He had been tied in a somewhat uncomfortable position, and now he noticed how he was sighing with relief as his shoulders relaxed.

For some time he just lay there, and Bull lay close beside him, still stroking and murmuring.

He noticed that it was dark, and then it occured to him that Bull had probably taken his blindfold off, and that it was thus up to him to open his eyes and see again.

Slowly he cracked his eyelids open, slightly sticky as they were with tears and being closed for so long.

The room came into focus slowly, and he found himself staring up blearily into Bull’s face. They were very close, and Bull was smiling at him with an expression of affection and wonder that never failed to steal Dorian’s breath away, even drifting as he still was.

Dorian tried to smile back, but his facial muscles were still slow to respond to his wishes. It was always like this for a while, a strange space between his floating state and being fully present. His mind was his own again, but he needed some time to sort it and his body back together.

A cool wind blew over his face and he sighed. Behind Bull’s head he could see the stars twinkling through the broken beams of the roof. He knew that it was bitterly cold outside, but in here, half lying under Bull as he now did, he felt nothing but Bull’s own all-suffusing warmth and the cool relief of a slight breeze.

“You really need to fix your roof,” Dorian murmured and Bull grinned even wider. He always said that when he came back up, it was almost a code at that point.

Dorian wondered idly what he would do if Bull ever actually got around to closing that hole. But maybe he wouldn’t.

Dorian had the feeling that Bull really liked keeping him warm.


	32. Sheltering from the rain together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Sheltering from the rain together.

It was a conspiracy. Dorian knew that it was a conspiracy by the way the Inquisitor had tried to hide their smirk when they had sent him and Bull out together on patrol. In fact, he was fairly certain that it was all part of some bigger plan to “get everyone to get along”, and they had already done it to Varric and Cassandra, as well as to Sera and Vivienne. And now, never one to be deterred by two total catastrophes, they had also done it to him.

Thus it was that he found himself on a road that was little more than a track and that led up and down the rocks and gravel of the storm coast, trudging along behind a broad gray back, the ostentatious musculature shifting and flexing with every movement, shimmering slightly under a thin layer of sweat despite the cold and radiating enough warmth that Dorian could feel it several paces back. Or at least imagine that he could.

When he wasn’t glaring at Bull though he kept shooting glances up at the sky. It was a dismal day, and the clouds hung low and almost black overhead. The wind was also picking up and he knew he was in for a truly awful time.

And he honestly didn’t even know why. In the beginning of his acquaintance with the Iron Bull he may have made a few less than worthy remarks; but of late he thought he had behaved quite well. Especially considering… well, the Iron Bull. With his terrible puns, his smell, his stubborn refusal to take any of Dorian’s taunts seriously, his downright vulgar aversion to a decent amount of clothing-

A sudden and deafening peal of thunder tore Dorian from his thoughts. He barely had time for a muttered curse before the wind suddenly spun around them with a mighty gust, driving the first barrage of rain straight into their faces.

Dorian cursed again, louder this time, but he couldn’t even hear himself anymore over the howling wind and the lashing downpour. Bull turned around to him as lightening blasted from the sky, illuminating everything in stark white contrast for a split second. The rain was sluicing like rivers from his horns, down his neck and running in rivulets over his chest. Then the world was dark again, leaving Dorian to blink and to curse. He trudged forward towards Bull.

“We need to find shelter!” He yelled over the storm. “This is no use!”

To his great surprise, Bull did not argue. He didn’t look too concerned by the truly apocalyptic storm, but he frowned at Dorian and nodded.

“I know the way to the nearest cave,” he said, almost in his normal voice. Damn him but his timbre would carry even over the end of the world. Dorian felt like he could hear it in his bones.

Bull turned away from him again and lead the way. And still the storm did not bother him, while Dorian had to lean against the wind and could already feel the cold wetness seep through the outer layers of his clothing.

For a long while they trudged, and Dorian really started to feel the cold. The rain beat into his face like whips, the stones grew wet and slippery and more than once he almost fell. The water had now reached down even to his small clothes and he could feel the all pervading chill right down to his bones. He was shivering hard, and his teeth chattered.

It seemed to take an eternity, but at last the rain curtain before them parted and they found themselves standing at the foot of a steep cliff, the black rocks shining in the downpour. Bull lead the way a few yards further to a curtain of thick vines and drew them aside.

Dorian did not question his good fortune, but ducked underneath Bull’s outstretched arms and stumbled inside. It was quite large for a natural cave, and blessedly dry. The vines and its slightly sloped ground had kept out most of the rain. It was bare rock all around, but to Dorian, frozen to his core and wet as he was, it might as well have been a fully furnished tavern room.

Bull came in behind him and very suddenly there was a lot less room. Bull just seemed to naturally fill up any and all space he was given. But with him also came a wave of warmth that only made Dorian shiver harder. Bull was drenched too, at least as much as he could be half naked. It wasn’t fair.

Bull slung his pack off his shoulder and then turned to where Dorian was still standing and shaking. He knew he had to do something, but every movement seemed to make the cold worse. His chest and arms ached.

Bull rummaged in his pack for a second and then turned back to Dorian, holding a rather damp blanket.

“Look, big guy. There’s no easy way to say this, but you need to lose the clothes.”

Dorian balked at him. Inappropriate! Also, the idea of having even less to protect him from the cold made him actually want to cry.

“Certainly not!” He said with as much indignance as he could muster with a shaking voice.

Bull sighed at him, exasperated. “I’m not making a pass at you, Dorian. You’re drenched, you’ll freeze in that sodden stuff.”

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, glared and shivered. Bull growled at him.

“Not in the mood for your bullshit right now. Lose. The. Clothes.”

His tone was hard and he too was glaring. Dorian felt a sudden jolt in his very core, and a slight tremor that was not due to the cold. Bull raised an eyebrow at him. Damn his perceptiveness to the void and back.

Dorian cursed under his breath and turned away, attempting to salvage at least some of his dignity.

“Fine,” he grumbled and set to work opening the straps of his outfit. Bull was right, after all. The other thing, his reaction, well. He didn’t want to think about it. He also didn’t want Bull to do it again. Not even a little bit.

At last he managed to opens the stiff leather straps and the cold hit him like a blow to the chest. A small whimper escaped him, he couldn’t help it. His cotton underthings were worse than useless. But before he could turn back to Bull to argue, he felt a wall of warmth step up behind him.

Bull draped the blanket over Dorian’s shoulders, but then did not take his hands away. They just remained on his shoulders, light and careful, and Dorian stopped breathing.

The were so huge and so warm, even through the blanket. Dorian could feel the contact so clearly, it stood out like a beacon above his current misery.

“You okay there, big guy?” Bull asked. His voice was slow and quiet, gentle even, and Dorian was sure he had never heard it like that before. Careful. Dorian nodded. He did not trust his voice.

And then, in a fit of sudden courage, or need, he took a step back against Bull’s front.

He did not know what he had expected. For Bull to laugh, certainly. For Bull to step away, or for him to shove Dorian away from him, maybe.

He had not expected the sudden burst of warmth against his skin, so intense it nearly made him gasp. And then… the Bull wrapping both arms around Dorian tightly. And chuckling. Not in mockery, but gentle as his question had been, and kind.

“There you go,” he said quietly, “that’s better, isn’t it?”

After a while of standing like that, Dorian’s knees threatened to give in to his sudden exhaustion. Bull held onto him as they both sank down to the ground. It took some awkward shuffling, but in the end Dorian was nestled tightly between Bull’s enormous arms and his even bigger chest. All the fight had left him together with the cold he could no longer feel. And as they sat in silence like that, Dorian’s eyelids started to droop.

Outside the storm howled and the rain blasted away interminably against the cliffs. But inside, there was only warmth and Bull’s slow, peacefully breathing.


	33. They rescue a kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Trashbien](http://trashbien.tumblr.com/): kid fic; they rescue a kid (idk elf or qunari would be cute) and it gets really attached either to bull or dorian and they somewhat end up adopting it. give us some papa dorian pls~

It had been a very hard day, and no fun for anyone. They were all bloody and tired to their bones by the time they reached the cave, and not even Dorian was going to care much about where they took shelter, if only they could sleep soon.

But Bull, who insisted on going in first, now stood frozen in the entrance, and Dorian could not see past him. But he could see all the muscles in Bull’s back stiffen, and he knew something was very wrong.

“Shh…” Bull said to the cave and then slowly raised both hands. “It’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you.” His voice was strained with exhaustion, and it had that special lilt Dorian knew so well, the one he used when he wanted to be as gentle as possible.

For a second, Dorian thought Bull had found a wounded animal, until he heard a sob. With a curse, he ducked past Bull’s form and stumbled into the cave. And then he stopped short in shock.

Against the far wall sat the huddled shape of a child. It was painfully skinny and dirty, almost featureless under the muck but for huge wide eyes that were now brimming with tears and staring at Bull in terror. Stringy, grimy blond hair hid the face, but tiny pointed ears poked out between strands.

Dorian blinked and caught himself, and then turned back to Bull. “Amatus, could you maybe get out of the light?” Bull just nodded dumbly and moved aside. He looked pale and rather shaken himself, Dorian thought. He hated it when children were afraid of him.

But it couldn’t be helped. This was up to Dorian now. Slowly and carefully he approached the child, hands raised like Bull had. As he came closer he saw that the tiny elf was most likely a boy of maybe five years, and really little more than skin and bones.

Dorian crouched down before him, keeping a safe distance. “My name is Dorian,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “What’s yours?”  
The boy did not answer, just shook his head and tried to hide his face behind his arms without losing sight of Dorian. Then he looked back to Bull and whimpered. Dorian heard Bull huff.

“And that is my friend, the Iron Bull,” Dorian added with a little smile. “He is a big softy actually. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

The boy’s eyes flickered to the greataxe on Bull’s back and Dorian suddenly had to suppress a laugh. Oh, this was a clever one.

“Alright then, maybe that’s not true,” Dorian said as earnestly as he could, ”but he would never hurt a child.”

The boy’s eyes seemed to lose focus somewhat and he looked back down to the ground. Something was catching up with him, Dorian thought. Exhaustion or hunger or just shock, there was no way to tell. It only took Dorian a second to make the decision.

And then he shuffled over to boy on his knees, and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy sobbed again, louder this time, and Dorian swore softly as he could feel every single bone through the skin. But the boy did not draw back from him, and as he wrapped his arms around him, a little hand reached out and grabbed a hold of one of Dorian’s belts.

The others started to set up the camp around them, lighting a fire and making stew and still Dorian and the boy held on to each other. Dorian hummed a gentle tune and stroked the boys head.

He couldn’t say what would happen next, beyond the food they were going to give him, and the bath. And new clothes, and maybe some safe place to stay.

And then he caught Bull watching them with a warm smile. It was going to be alright.


	34. Aftermath of the rescue mission to Tevinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: Trespasser: What happened between Bull and Dorian after the rescue mission to Tevinter by the Chargers.

Consciousness was slow to return to Dorian, and for a long while all he was aware of was his own breathing. It hurt badly and all else seemed faint and distant behind it. Every intake of air burned in his throat and chest, and his mouth was swollen and parched, his lips cracked and stinging.

There was silence all around him for what seemed like forever, and he kept his eyes closed. Nothing much to see or do, he supposed. He wondered idly what had happened to him. He might be dead, and the thought stung with faint sadness, or he might still be asleep. He heard no demon voices though, so that at least was unlikely.

He remembered the path in the woods then, golden autumn light filtering through the canopy of the dense trees, so beautiful, and the dark earth underfoot. And then- voices shouting, and fire in the trees. Burning all around him, and screaming laughter. It must have been quite the ambush, he thought. Setting a forest on fire just for him, that certainly showed a gratifying amount of respect for his abilities. If only his lungs would stop burning.

He became aware that the air was cool around him though, and the ground beneath him was no longer the forest floor. It was soft, and he felt around with his fingers. He was lying on a cot, he realized, wrapped up in many blankets, and his hands and arms were bandaged.

And then he heard a sound. It was close by, and he stiffened for a second until he recognized it. Snoring. Someone was snoring, in a way that was very familiar. Bull used to snore like that. Bull!

With a start, Dorian was wide awake. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring up at a brown tent canvas. And as impossible as it seemed, there indeed was the Iron Bull. Sitting next to him, slumped over on a low stool, resting his great head on his arms, fast asleep.

Dorian gasped and tried to call his name, but his voice just cracked and nothing came out but a faint and painful croak. Instantly, Bull snapped awake.  
“Kadan!” he exclaimed and leaped up from his chair, toppling it and falling to his knees beside Dorian. He looked terrible. His face was ghostly pale and lined with missed sleep. His eye stood full of tears as he stared down at Dorian for a long second.

Then he leaned away again, rummaging under the cot and reemerging with a jug of water and a cloth. He wetted it and pressed it to Dorian’s lips, who sucked on it gratefully. The cool water tasted like the best thing he had ever imagined, and he whimpered a little when it was gone.

“Shh, kadan,” Bull whispered and wetted the cloth again. “Just take it easy now. You’re alright.” His voice sounded strained.

“How-” Dorian’s voice cracked again and he sucked on the proffered cloth some more before trying again. “How are you here?”

Bull shifted beside him and did not answer. Instead, he pulled Dorian up carefully until he was sitting, and then sat on the cot behind him, holding him up. Dorian leaned back into his broad chest gratefully and closed his eyes as Bull raised the jug itself to his lips and let him drink in long gulps.

“Slowly, Dorian,” Bull said gently, and Dorian tried to slow down. He still finished all the water in just a few moments and then closed his eyes again, sagging back into Bull’s hold completely.

“A friend of yours sent me a message,” Bull said. “Told me to come to the Qarin forest. Good thing I did, too.” He reached around Dorian, wrapping one arm around his chest securely and stroking his hair with the other hand.

“Amatus,” Dorian whispered. “You shouldn’t be here. ‘S not safe…” words were failing him again as exhaustion tugged on his mind. Behind him, Bull’s chest rose and fell with a great sigh.

“No one is safe here, Kadan,” he said. “Not I, not you, not anyone. That’s what you’re gonna change, remember?”

There was pain in his words, Dorian could hear it clearly, but sleep was calling him. Instead, he raised his hand and clung to Bull’s, squeezing it tightly.

“I’m glad to see you, Amatus,” he whispered, and then fell asleep, the gentle rhythm of Bull’s heart under his ear.


	35. Dorian tries to make the necklace of the Kadan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Mater--tua](http://mater--tua.tumblr.com/): Dorian tries to make the necklace of the kadan, but the dragon tooth (upon splitting) turns out to be full of cavities and crap. The rest of the carcass won't arrive at Skyhold for a long while, so he rolls with it. The resulting necklace looks like a child's art project, but Bull loves it anyway.

The whole thing had sounded completely straightforward when Dorian first heard of the tradition. A Dragon’s teeth, like her bones, where stronger than steel, and far lighter, but were supposedly still easy to carve. Perfect, really, for making an absurd gift in keeping with an even absurder cultural practice that Dorian was fairly sure Bull had just made up on the spot.

As soon as the idea entered the real world though, Dorian saw the problem at once. The dragon was dead and requisitions was busy breaking up the carcass, including the skull, and the mess was indescribable. That was one point. Then of course there was the matter of getting one of the teeth into his pack without Bull noticing. That was another, pretty much impossible task. And then, thirdly, there was the small matter that all the teeth were not just huge, they were also blackened with soot and decay, had more holes than Fereldan cheese, and seemed about ready to fall apart.

So much for dragon’s legendary physiology, Dorian thought. So much for the tradition too. Had Bull known what the teeth of a creature that spat fire were even like? He doubted it.

But still, he would do his very best. He got requisitions to agree to smuggle a tooth back to Skyhold in secret, and a few weeks later he was hunched over a workbench in the undercroft, sweating and cursing and narrowly avoiding stabbing himself in the thigh repeatedly with the very sharp carving knife.

He whittled away at the tooth as best he could. It turned out that, depending on which spot Dorian tried attacking, it was either harder than stone or completely rotten and brittle, black and white and a sort of blotchy gray, or just simply cracked beyond repair. He had managed to start with two pieces of roughly the same size and shape, but near the end of it they both looked completely different. And both bad.

Dorian leaned back from his work with an exhausted sigh. Then he stretched very carefully, trying to work out the interminable cramp that had set into his spine about halfway through his work. Then he closed his eyes for a few seconds and opened them again. In the vain hope, maybe, that the fruit of his labor would improve when looked at again. It did not.

Both pieces of the tooth looked like a child and a dog had taken turns playing with a burned piece of hardwood. They were both vaguely pendant-shaped, and even had holes for a leather strap, but that was about it for similarity or even functionality. Dorian sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tears were stinging in his eyes, though he would never admit it. He had spent so long on these, and he had tried really hard, and all he had wanted was some way to show Bull, well. To show him what Dorian still felt unable to say. It didn’t matter if the tradition existed or not. It could have been a great gesture either way-

Behind him, the door to the undercroft creaked open, making Dorian jump. Quickly he spun around and hid the teeth behind his back. He had expected Dagna, but instead it was Bull, standing in the doorway and smiling.

“You done, Dorian?”  
“Done? Done with what?” He tried to sound innocent, but even he could hear he was failing miserably. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain his failure-  
“Hey now,” Bull said gently, clearly noticing Dorian’s distress. Then he came closer and knelt down before Dorian’s stool, putting both hands gently on Dorian’s thighs.  
Dorian just groaned. “You knew what I was trying to do, didn’t you?”  
“Yeah,” Bull said, still smiling, “you’re not that subtle Dorian. Will you show me?”  
Dorian screwed his eyes closed and brought out both pieces. He didn’t want to see the look on Bull’s face.

When he held out the teeth, Bull didn’t make a sound. Dorian suppressed another groan and slowly cracked his eyes open again. No point putting off the inevitable.

But Bull was not looking shocked, or disgusted, or like he would laugh. Instead, Dorian found that Bull was smiling, grinning even, broader than he had ever seen. It seemed to stretch across his entire face, and his eye was alight with a joy that stopped Dorian’s breath in his throat. It was beautiful.

“Kadan,” Bull whispered, his voice strangely tight.  
“But-” Dorian stammered, “Bull, they look like complete crap!”  
Bull just laughed. Not at him, not in mockery. Just in joy. “It is a dragon’s tooth, Kadan! You made us a split dragon’s tooth!”  
Then Bull sat up suddenly and pressed his lips to Dorian’s in an enthusiastic kiss. Maybe Bull just had terrible taste in pendants. And maybe, just maybe, Dorian thought, that didn’t even matter.


	36. "I want to talk about my FEELINGS Dorian."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: "I want to talk about my FEELINGS Dorian."

For a long second, Dorian just gapes. He must have misheard. Not that he had much room to, seeing as they were lying right next to each other, and all around was silent. Dorian still blinked a few times, seeing if Bull would correct himself. He didn’t, and Dorian very slowly turned his head to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “you want to what?”  
Bull shrugged beside him, making the whole bed wobble a bit. It had served them well, but Dorian believed it was probably on its last legs already. A pun he had no intention of sharing.  
“Yeah, you know,” Bull went on, trying and failing to sound unperturbed, “I know we haven’t really done that yet, and I think now’d be a good time.” He was trying to sound and look relaxed, and was also probably doing a pretty good job at it. But Dorian knew him better by now.  
He rolled over and cuddled against Bull’s side, and Bull immediately wrapped him up in his arms, and kissed his head.  
“I love you,” he mumbled into Dorian’s hair. “I know I never say it, but I do. You should know that. Even if you need to go back. Or even go back without me-”  
Bull’s voice cracked. Dorian felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting, and he threw both his arm and his leg over Bull’s massive form and squeezed him.  
“I know, Amatus,” he whispered. And then, regaining his voice somewhat, ”you are a terrible sap.”  
Bull chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “All your fault, Kadan. I wouldn’t be without you.” He swallowed hard and Dorian kissed his chest.  
“You know I love you too,” he said. “You know we will work it out. See, I have something for you.” Dorian disentangled himself and leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage in his clothes. He came back up with one of the crystals.  
Bull had regained his composure somewhat and sat up, peering curiously into Dorian’s hand.  
“This,” Dorian said, producing the crystal with a dramatic flourish, “is a sending crystal.”  
Now it was Bull’s turn to gape at him, if only for a second before he enveloped Dorian into his second crushing hug of the day. Dorian smiled against Bull’s gray skin, even as the tears pricked in his eyes again.  
No matter how far life pulled them apart, they would always be together.


	37. Rehab Coach Bull Former Addict Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Theladylily](http://theladylily.tumblr.com/) asked: Rehab Coach Bull Former Addict Dorian -Modern AU- Dorian manages to escape the ritual his father had started on him. Years later he becomes a successful Magical theorist but years trying to cope he had dragged along ‘some bad habits’ that he wishes to cut off. But as of late the attempt o end his addiction had being disastrous so he deiced to actuary some professional help.

“You know, people are often not that happy to see me. You are setting a new record here though, big guy.”

All Bull got for his trouble was a sneer. He was standing in what closely resembled a bomb crater, but was actually the two room high-rise apartment of his client. One Dorian Pavus, Tevinter refugee, author of the most cited work on magical theory on temporal fields, and also the kind of person who would call themselves a “casual addict”.  
“Look,” Bull said, “you asked me to be here. This will not work if you actually don’t.”  
Dorian glared at him over the rim of his reading glasses, not even bothering to put down his book. He was very pale and his hands were shaking. Bull knew he was feeling like shit. He decided to postpone the battle.  
“I’m making tea,” he announced instead. Dorian made no comment.  
When Bull came back with the tea, he could tell that Dorian had not turned a single page, or read anything in front of him. He was just burning holes into the thing with his eyes. He looked like he wanted to throw it, and Bull thought it might do him some good. The books never seemed to help Dorian as much as he claimed they did.  
Bull just sat down on the other armchair, blew on his tea and waited. At last Dorian seemed to give up, at least a little.  
“So. How does this go, exactly? I tell you I want a drink, you tell me not to?”  
“Pretty much, yeah. Also you can tell me anything else, whatever you like. Oh, and I will actually stop you if you try to drink. Just so you know.”  
“Yes, I did read your add. Most coaches just leave it at the talking.”  
Bull shrugged. “Works for most. Wouldn’t work for you. Obviously.”  
Dorian huffed, almost a humorous sound. “Yes, quite. Apparently some habits are harder to kick than one generally assumes.”  
Bull nodded. “Yeah. No one can prepare you for what this shit is like. Not beforehand, anyway. But you can still do it. You know that?”  
Dorian’s face twisted a little into the closest thing to a smile Bull had seen yet. “Of course I can. I am, after all, exceptional. Also, despite everything, wealthy enough to afford you.”  
Bull couldn’t help but laugh. There was not a single thing that would be easy about this. But Dorian was smart and funny and good. Bull would not let him fall.


	38. Bull writing on Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Nyagosstar](http://nyagosstar.tumblr.com/): Bull writing on Dorian? Perhaps an unsent letter post-Demands of the Qun, or a love letter before Dorian is ready to hear it.

It was late at night and outside all was silent. Words never quite worked like they were supposed to in a time like this. They tended to come out too honest, and Dorian would run away.

Because just this once, he had not run. He had stayed, and now he was lying sprawled across Bull’s chest, pretending to be asleep. Bull let him do that, because, well, it turned out that having someone lie on him was surprisingly pleasant. Lovely, even.

He stroked Dorian’s back slowly and gently, as if trying not to wake him, and he let his fingers wander too.

Lovely, he wrote out in slow, flowing letters. He knew Dorian would not be able to make out the word, but it felt like a risk all the same. Bull had learned the hard way, there were words Dorian could not bear. Not yet. Maybe, in time…

Strong. Bull always found such words on his lips in their moments together, loud and frantic or silent like this. Beautiful. His fingers fumbled the spelling of this one a little and he almost laughed.

Enchanting. He wrote it down Dorian’s spine, letter by letter. Maybe the words could sink into his skin and take some effect there. Maybe shield Dorian, maybe make him believe-

Strange. Bull’s mind was taking strange paths now, close to sleep as he was himself. But not as strange as that feeling in his chest, the feeling he could not shake and could not explain, and that had nested there since that first night, when Dorian had stumbled into his room half by mistake.

Stay.

Dorian sighed against Bull’s chest as he actually fell asleep. Bull closed his eye.

Kadan.


	39. Sera gets a game of "truth or dare" going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Hyliari](http://hyliari.tumblr.com/): Sera gets a game of "truth or dare" going in the tavern. Dorian and Bull get roped into playing.

“So, who’s up for another round?” Varric grins around the table, drawing all the chips towards himself as everyone else groans.  
It’s very late and the tavern is already getting empty, just those of the inner circle who can’t seem to stop themselves from losing money to either Varric or Josephine over wicked grace are still seated around the table. Or rather slumped, in many cases. The wine was flowing freely all evening, and they are starting to feel it.

Sera glares at her losing hand for a bit before throwing it down in disgust. “Not playing,” she says, her speech slightly slurred, “too much bloody counting.”  
Dorian grins. “Right. After all of two glasses of wine, accurate counting can hardly be expected of you anymore.”  
She sticks out her tongue at him and he chuckles.  
“Anyway,” she continues, “it’s no fun if Varric always wins. I want to play something fun!”  
She gets up suddenly, nearly tipping her chair, and grabs one of the empty bottles.  
“This ought to be good,” Varric says.  
“Yeah, I’m in,” Bull adds, “what’s the game?”  
“It’s spin the bottle! What, you’ve never played?”  
Dorian coughed. “Ah, I have. Though I can’t say I remember it as a game for polite company.”  
“Good thing we ain’t polite company then, innit?”  
Dorian looks around. There is Bull, a very smug Varric, a Josephine so drunk she is giggling, Sera who wants to have fun, Blackwall and Cullen who both really need to have fun, and Dorian himself, who is drunk enough to want to see where this goes.  
“I might be willing to concede that point,” he says, “proceed then.”  
“Riiight,” she drawls, “watch me proceeeeed.”  
She puts the bottle down in the middle of the table and gives it a good spin. It skips and slides a little on the uneven table, but finally comes to a stop, pointing dead center at Dorian.  
“Ooooh,” she says, “truth or dare, fancy britches.”  
“Hm, I will go for dare this time I think.”  
“Ha!” She proclaims in triumph. “I dare you,” she points at him dramatically, “to hold Bull’s hand!”  
Dorian’s jaw drops just as his heart tries to leap out of his chest. He doesn’t know what he expected, but not… that. Nothing like that. He blinks, slowly, and then very carefully looks over to Bull.  
He is looking at him calmly, smiling slightly but with a distinctly thoughtful spark in his eye. Slowly he reaches out and puts his massive left hand on the table right next to Dorian, palm up.  
Dorian stares at it for a long while, unmoving. His pulse is still pounding and his hands are sweating and he doesn’t know what to do. It isn’t a big deal, it is just a childish dare, he is making a mountain out of a molehill here. He knows that. He also knows that he has touched Bull’s hand, and most of the rest of him, more than once by now. Just not like this. Not where people could see. And not so, well. He doesn’t even know. The table has fallen silent and Dorian doesn’t dare look at the others.  
Before he can lose his nerve he reaches over and puts his hand into Bull’s. It is warm and calloused, like he knew it would be, and it closes around his own gently, almost enveloping it completely. The rough pads of his fingers and the jagged scars on the two stumps stroke over the back of Dorian’s hand, sending tingles all the way up his arm. The contact is grounding and solid and warm and so, so strong-  
Josephine gives another drunken giggle and then cooes, very quietly. Blackwall shushes her.  
Dorian snaps out of it, takes a deep breath and looks around. Everyone at the table is looking at him, but he finds nothing but varying amounts of amusement and smiles. He takes another breath. The south, right.

He clears his throat and reaches for the bottle, spinning it carefully so it wouldn’t skip. He can do this. It lands on Sera.  
“Aha!” he said, his voice more steady than he feels, “truth or dare?” He points at her with his free hand.  
“Dare…” she says carefully.  
“I dare you to go to Maryden and request that song she wrote about you!”  
Sera cries out in dismay as the rest of the table erupts into raucous laughter. Dorian and Bull join in, and no one is looking at them anymore. They have also not let go.


	40. Bull having a change of heart after the betrayal in Trespasser.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Teamongrel](http://teamongrel.tumblr.com/): Bull having a change of heart after the betrayal in Trespasser. Maybe he sees Dorian go down and thinks that that's his Kadan they're killing.

“Hissrad, now! Please!”  
Bull didn’t even blink. He knew this moment was coming, he had known it for a long time. The Qun had certainly taken a while to call on him, never expend a sleeper lightly and all that. The Viddasala must certainly be growing desperate. He carefully took a step away from the group, out of range of Cadash’s knives.  
“Understood, ma’am.” His voice did not waver.

As he turned around, they were staring at him in numb shock. It was almost funny, the way their jaws all dropped in unison. “Nothing personal, bas,” he said to Cadash, watching her shock slowly morph into white-hot rage. Good. It was easier this way. She charged at him with a yell and he raised his axe. Then she disappeared into a cloud of smoke. With a curse, Bull leapt to his right side, swinging his axe blindly to the left. It clipped her shoulder and she gave a pained shout, and Bull spun towards the noise.  
Behind them, he heard the others fighting with the soldiers that had come marching up the stairs, he heard Rainier bellow his challenges as their weapons clashed. And then Cadash was on him again, spinning and stabbing, driving him back against the far wall, and as he dodged and parried, trying to find an opening to wind up a counter, he noticed what was missing. The crackle and hiss of Dorian’s magic.  
When he looked over he saw Rainier engaging three soldiers at once, taking hit after hit on his shield as he tried to hold. Behind him, Dorian stood motionless, his staff dangling loose in his grip. His face was white and his eyes stood wide, staring at Bull. One of the soldiers was edging his way around Rainier, it was only a matter of time until he-  
Cadash ducked low on his left side and Bull spun to avoid her, but too late. Her knife sunk deep into his left thigh, pain exploding in his mind like a Gaatlok blast. He brought the pummel of his axe down hard on her, but she dodged that too, tearing her knife out of him and spinning away. He stumbled, his left leg almost buckling.  
And then the soldier reached Dorian. He was not moving, he wasn’t even looking at the threat, just at Bull, as if all the world around him had fallen away.  
He used to look at him like that, sometimes, in bed or in their quiet moments together, when all the world fell away as well, when Bull told him that nothing mattered outside this room, that it was just the two of them now. It was just the two of them now. The soldier swung his sword.  
Later, Bull would never be able to recall what he thought in that moment, or how he made that decision. The pain in his leg was nothing but a dull throb, Cadash’s knives nothing but a distant threat, and the Qun was nothing but words in the past. Suffering is a choice. Existence is a choice.  
Before he knew what he was doing, he ran. He charged out of Cadash’s range, past the approaching soldiers, past Rainiers shield, desperately thrown out in an attempt to stop him, past Dorian’s slack despair, and he barreled into the Sten with his left shoulder, throwing him back.  
“Hissrad!” He heard the Viddasala scream from the balcony, so far away, “Your soul is dust!”  
The Sten recovered and swung at him, just as the cool blue of a barrier fell over his skin.  
He heard Dorian’s magic crackle to life around him, whizzing past and catching the Sten square in the chest.

For a long time they fought, the Qunari coming at them in waves, but the last one finally fell with Cadash’s knives in his back. They all stood still as silence fell, breathing hard. Cadash was glaring daggers at him, but her actual knives she put away, and made no move to attack him.  
“Tal-Vashoth,” the Qunari had shouted at him. Tal-Va-Fucking-Shoth. Through the red roaring in his ears he could hear their voices screaming, but another too, closer to him now and soft, kinder and gentler than it had ever been.  
“Are you alright?”  
Bull turned to Dorian, who was standing right next to him. Pale and with tears tracking down his cheeks, but unhurt.  
“Never better,” Bull said. It might actually be true. “Kadan.”


	41. Dorian grows ill shortly after the last battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Theladylily](http://theladylily.tumblr.com/) : – Long Term Illness – Dorian grows ill shortly after the last battle and there is very little chance of getting better, Dorian has seen what illness does to the family of the sick and he doesn’t want to ruin Bull like Felix’s Blight ruined Alexius so he tries to send him away, break up the relationship.

Unlike most catastrophes Dorian had seen, this one happened slowly and quietly. It started as a persistent cough on the ship he took over the waking sea, and turned into blood in his handkerchief on the road to Qarinus. He knew what it was at once. He had seen it before.

Once he was back home in his family’s mansion, cold and empty, his vision swam when he got up too fast, and his throbbing headache was almost constant. He cried a little, then, but did not allow himself to wallow too much. There was work to be done, so much work.

Bringing his affairs in order was a rather daunting task, and his days were spent bent over reports, ledgers and lists, more often than not. Time flies, he thought to himself often. Time flies when you know you are going to die.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed, stroking over the dragon’s tooth under his tunic. There was nothing else for it, he had put it off for too long.

“Iron Bull,” he said to the crystal. His voice scratched more today, worse than it had been. The ache between his eyes throbbed. But still, the crystal understood and soon he could hear a voice answer.

“Kadan?”

Dorian sighed and closed his eyes. He loved that voice. He might never hear it again. He swallowed and composed himself. Only if he did this right, he would never hear it again. It was better that way.

“Bull, I need to speak with you,” he said, keeping his tone as even as he could.  
“Yeah, I was wondering when you’d use this thing. Gives me the creeps honestly, the way it crackles and glows. Still I love hearing your voice. How have you been, big guy?”

His tone was soft and affectionate and Dorian bit his thumb. “Fine, I’ve been fine. Listen, Bull, I’m sorry. This will not work. We had a good time, but this is it. I hope you understand.”

For a long while, nothing came from the crystal but silence. At last, Bull spoke again. His voice sounded strained in that way you could miss if you weren’t listening for it.

“Dorian,” he said, “Are you alright?”  
“Yes, I assure you. Now please, don’t make this harder than it needs do be. I regret hurting you, but this is how it must be. Please accept that.”

Bull growled. “Dorian-”

Dorian quickly turned the crystal off, severing the connection. Tears were stinging in his eyes, but the growing pain in his head was drowning out much of what he felt. He was almost grateful.

The next few days he had little time to even think. The pain was spreading from his head into his joints, making all movement difficult. He lay in bed a lot, commanding the servants to bring the paperwork to him.

Until finally, one morning, he heard a cart rolling into the courtyard, something he was not expecting. And a half hour later, an elven servant knocked on his door and then timidly entered.

“Lord Dorian,” she said, “there is a delivery here for you. May we bring it in?”

Dorian tried to answer, but found it too hard to raise his voice above a harsh whisper. He just nodded, and the servant left. If it was anything dangerous, anyone coming to assassinate him, they were too late.

When the servant came back, she was followed by four more, bearing a very large, oblong shape, wrapped in cloth. They brought it in and set it up on the far wall of the room. Then they drew back the covering and Dorian gasped. The breath caught in his throat and made him cough.

Before him stood an Eluvian. He tried to sit up in bed, but found that his back was too weak to hold him. All he could do was stare as the surface shimmered, wobbled and was finally breached. A large grey hand came first, followed by an even more massive shoulder, a pair of ridiculous horns…

“Amatus,” he whispered. Bull had come.

He stepped up to the bed, and through his swimming vision Dorian could see how stiff he held himself, and how he glared. But when he reached down to touch Dorian’s shoulder, his hands were gentle, as always.

“Your security is shit,” Bull said as he hefted Dorian up into a sitting position. “Almost as shit as your ideas and your excuses.” He drew a bottle from his pouch, uncorked it with his teeth and pressed it to Dorian’s lips. It tasted vile, but Dorian no longer had any strength to resist, and he swallowed.

Something was happening, he didn’t know what. A tingling sensation was traveling all over his body together with a sense of bone-deep tiredness he could not resist. He knew he should not want Bull here, but he could not resist that either.

“You… you are angry…” He whispered.  
Bull snorted. “Yeah. Making my decisions for me, almost getting killed? Making me use one of those demon-infested shitholes there? Might piss me off a bit, not gonna lie.”  
Dorian whimpered, and Bull changed his grip, wrapping Dorian up in his arms and drawing him against his chest. It felt good, Dorian thought, far better than he deserved. He could not think about it too hard, already drifting towards sleep, or death.

“You have been poisoned, Kadan,” Bull said, his voice far gentler now. “You are going to be alright. Sleep now, everything will be fine.”

Dorian did not quite manage to summon the strength to smile, but he hoped Bull could still read it on him. Bull could always read everything on him.


	42. Dorian having a nightmare about the bad ending from trespasser?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous: dorian having a nightmare about the bad ending from trespasser?

The room was large, far larger than Dorian remembered it. He could not say when he had seen it before, but something about it was wrong. The Qunari marching up the stairs towards them were wrong as well, the way they moved was too slow. And the way Bull moved was wrong. So wrong. He was moving away from them.

“Understood, ma’am,” he said.  
Dorian stopped breathing. Bull turned back to them. “Nothing personal. Bas.”

His face was stone. No expression, no pain, no regret, no humor at his own joke. Dorian’s vision swam, and the Bull, Hissrad, charged at him.  
Dorian screamed and threw his hands out, summoning ice to stop him, slow him down, anything. Something that would not kill him. He could not kill him, could not really fight, if only he found some way to stop him, they could maybe take him alive-

The temperature all around him suddenly dropped. No ice came from his fingers though and Bull kept coming. He still had no expression, and he was coming closer, though Dorian didn’t know why it was taking him so long, why it took so long for Dorian to die. Bull wanted to kill him, and the ice was not coming, it was just getting colder and colder, just as Bull’s eye was cold and distant, almost unseeing, an automaton. Like the corpses Dorian made walk and fight for him. He tried to scream again, but now no sound came out.

“Kadan!” he heard the word called to him from a great distance. Bull was still coming at him, his axe held high, but not gaining any ground. This would not end.  
“Kadan!” His voice again, from somewhere else, some other time where that word still had meaning, some other history where Bull’s eye was not so cold, where he would never-

Dorian woke suddenly and harshly, and a mangled shout tore from his throat. It was cold all around him, and he was alone. For a second he screwed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. It was hard, and each intake stung in his nose and throat, though he didn’t know why. He felt tears run down the side of his face, but he didn’t feel like he was crying. His heart was hammering in his chest.

“Dorian.” He heard Bull’s voice again, very quiet and calm, a few paces away. The sound of it grounded him. Bull was still here, he knew. Bull was Tal-Vashoth, Bull had mocked the Viddasala when she had called on him. Bull would never.

Dorian reached up and wiped his eyes with one hand. The movement made him wince and he noticed that he was lying on the hard ground. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Bull, kneeling next to him, looking worried and very careful. Then Dorian’s gaze fell on the bed and he gasped. The mattress was frozen solid, white crystals growing all over the bedspread and the blankets, and reaching over the headboard and down almost to the floor. Dorian groaned.

“Dorian, are you back with me?” Bull asked, and his voice was so gentle it made Dorian’s eyes water and his throat close again. He rolled over and reached out for him.

“Oh amatus, I’m sorry,” he whispered, finding his voice raw. Bull just sighed and picked him up, gently manhandling him until he was tucked against Bull’s broad chest. His skin was clammy and cold. Bull then stood up, still carrying Dorian in his arms, and began to pace.

“Sorry about this, big guy, but if we don’t move we’ll freeze solid.”

Dorian groaned and Bull pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It’s alright,” he said. Dorian nodded and pressed himself closer to Bull. In a minute, he would feel himself again enough to thaw the bed. Right now, he just let himself be held.

“Bull,” he whispered, almost hoping Bull would ignore it. Bull seemed to pick up on that and just hummed. “You know that I love you, yes?” Dorian asked, even quieter. Bull squeezed him.  
“I know, Kadan,” he said.  
“And you know that I am not afraid of you?”  
Bull kissed him again, gently. “I know, Kadan. Was it that old dream again?”

Dorian nodded. Bull just held him tighter and started to hum a soft tune as the air in the room slowly started to warm up again. It was going to be alright.


	43. "Honestly I'm surprised she didn't kill us."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Vivelyf](http://vivelyf.tumblr.com/): "Honestly I'm surprised she didn't kill us." "Hell, not only are we alive, I think that was her way of saying she approved."

Dorian and Bull stood together in front of the door to the war room, with trepidation. It was better this way, they had agreed, but still. When their eyes met it was a bit like they did before battle.

Bull opened the door carefully and ushered Dorian in. Leliana and Cullen were standing over the war table, discussing movements. The Inquisitor was watching them.

The dim light in the room did nothing to tone down her appearance, not in the slightest. Shadows played on her aged gray skin and her snow white hair, and the flickering candle light reflected on her silver vitaar, almost making it look like jewelry. She stood tall, almost as tall as Bull himself, and the upward curve of her horns made her seem even larger.

“Inquisitor,” Dorian greeted, “We wondered if we might have a word?”  
She nodded to Leliana and Cullen, who quickly took their leave. For a while she remained focused on the map, her weathered hands shoving around armies like toys. When she looked up there was a spark of humor behind the steel.  
“So, you have something to tell me?”  
“Uh, yes. Ma’am,” Bull stuttered. Dorian had never believed that Bull could actually do that, and yet here they were.  
“Well then, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. Dorian almost thought there was some sarcasm in her tone, but he could never be sure.  
“Ah, yes,” he said and then winced. Here he went, stuttering too. “We just wanted to let you know, Bull and I are now… together. Like that. We thought, well, we thought you should hear it from us first.”

Herah Adaar let out a loud breath. Almost a laugh, Dorian thought. “Hear it from you first? I certainly did. You do not know that tents are not soundproof.”

They both flinched, in unison.

“But anyway. I trust this won’t lead to one of you doing anything idiotic in battle?”

“No ma’am,” Bull said at once and Dorian echoed him. She just hummed, thinking. She contemplated the map some more and then looked up again, fixing them both with a glare.

“You also know, I hope, that should one of you harm either my Tevinter Mage or my front line bodyguard, there won’t be a corner in Thedas dark or deep enough to hide you?”

They both shuddered, again in unison. “Yes ma’am,” they said.

She just nodded, half to them and half to herself and then stared at the map some more. Bull and Dorian quietly took their leave.

Once the doors closed behind them, they sagged and let out another synchronized sigh.  
“Well then, we survived,” Dorian said.  
Bull chuckled, though it still sounded a little weak. “Yeah, she didn’t kill us. In fact, I almost think she approves!”


	44. Dorian keeps buying gifts for Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [Thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/): Dorian keeps buying gifts for Bull, like flowers and chocolates and ~dating gifts~

The first time Bull found one, he had no idea what to make of it. It was a box, wrapped in a red silk cloth and sitting innocently on his nightstand. It looked and smelled a lot like Dorian, but it also felt distinctly like a trap. Strange boxes in your room were enough to make anyone wary.

He approached it carefully, listened to it and then shook it. It made no sound. He put it on the bed and unwrapped it. The box was small and very ornate, motives of flowers wrapping around the sides and over the lid, and it had a tiny little latch that opened the top on a hinge.  
He got off the bed and took a knife, sliding it under the latch, keeping it at arms length, and then flipped it open. Nothing happened. He came closer slowly.  
Inside, there was a note, and underneath lay six dark brown chocolates, ornate like the box itself. Bull stared at them. Then he remembered the note and opened it.  
__  
Dear Bull,  
A token of my appreciation. Don’t read too much into it.  
~Dorian  
  
The chocolates, it turned out, were amazing. They were like cocoa and butter wrapped in air. They melted in the mouth immediately and exploded with flavor, the likes of which Bull had never tasted before. Even his Tama’s cocoa had not been this sweet. Nothing he had ever tasted had ever been this sweet, nor this well balanced with the tart bitterness of chocolate and the creamy smoothness of butter. He ate every single one of them slowly, with his eyes closed, and they made the world fade away around him.

The next one that he found came without a box, but with the same red silk wrapping. He grinned at it before he even unwrapped it. Both this and the piece that came with the chocolates were long strips of real silk. Bull had plans.  
He picked up the second parcel and examined it. It was large and very soft. Unwrapping it he found that the silk was wound around another long stretch of fabric of a lush, dark blue color. But unlike the silk it wasn’t smooth, but thick and fuzzy, finely woven wool. It took Bull a second to figure out that it was a scarf, long enough to wrap around his neck several times and very, very warm. It smelled slightly of Lavender, and out of the soft and scented folds there fell another note.  
__  
Dear Bull,  
I know you say you are never cold. I don’t believe you.  
~Dorian  
  
Bull bunched up the fabric and buried his face in it. He had never owned anything this soft. And though it was true that he never really felt cold, he also never had anything feel this good on his upper body before.

The third time he found the parcel tucked under his pillow. The usual silk wrapping was smaller now and Bull grinned at it. He could guess what Dorian wanted tied up with that. Inside there lay a small jar made of dark green stone, with an artfully chiseled top that screwed onto the bottom securely. He opened it, marveling at how smoothly the stone glid through the grooves.  
Once he got it open, Bull couldn’t help but take a moment to stare, as the scent of the best horn balm he had ever had drifted up to him. It was dark and creamy and smelled like lavender too. He loved Lavender.  
The note read:  
__  
Dear Bull,  
Have I ever told you that your horns are wonderful? I find myself thinking about them a lot.  
~Dorian  
  
Bull couldn’t help but grin. He leaned back against the headboard and cracked his knuckles.  
Oh, it was _on_.


	45. “Does it ever bother you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No particular prompt this time. :) Just Bull dealing with the implications of Trespasser.

“Does it ever bother you?” Bull asked one night, when both of them should have been sleeping. “I mean, if the boss hadn’t stopped me… I would still be Qunari.”

Dorian turned to him, propping himself up on one elbow. “Are you asking me, or are you telling me that it’s bothering you?”

“Heh, good point there, Kadan. Can’t get much bullshit passt you these days.”

“And yet you try.” Dorian smiled and Bull chuckled. It sounded uneasy though, and forced.

“No, but, seriously. If she hadn’t told me to save my men that day, I don’t know what I would have done…”

Dorian frowned. “This is very unlike you, Bull. Wallowing in ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’. What brought this on?”

“Ah, you’re right. Just, I was so bothered that I didn’t know what was going on at the winter palace. I thought if I hadn’t burned all those contacts, I could have done more to help. But then, when the Viddasala called on me… Like she expected me to turn on you. Like she thought…”

Bull fell silent again. Dorian sighed and shuffled over to him, laying against his side.

“Amatus. She knew nothing about you. She just took a stab in the dark. And as for the storm coast, well. You never know what might have happened. You could have slipped on a stone and cracked your skull on a rock.”

Bull snorted, and it sounded better this time, if not good. “I know, Kadan. Just… That was touch and go there. I know that. Things would be very different if the boss hadn’t made that call. I guess I just want you to know, well. I’m glad I didn’t know what was going on in the palace, ok?”

Dorian smiled and pressed a kiss to Bull’s rough cheek. “Ok.” he said.


End file.
